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Sunday,
October 7, 2001, was the first time I heard anything about a hurricane
in the area where Ray was. I cannot understand, to this day, why
I did not know before. We always checked out the weather reports
before we traveled, but for some reason, I have no memory of that
before this Belize trip. There were lots of things going on at
that time. 9/11 had just happened, less than 4 weeks
earlier. We were all still reeling from that horror, even though
we did not know anyone personally involved, at least at that
time. My mother was concerned about Ray flying, as were so many
others in our country, but Ray assured us that he was not concerned
about flying at all. He believed that true precautions were being
taken at airports all over, so did not worry about that part of the
trip. We were not concerned about the actual diving part, either,
any more than usual, because Ray was so very careful, a serious man,
who loved life, loved his family, and his friends, and would never have
put himself in harm's way, not intentionally.
The news crawl began reporting about Hurricane Iris, that it was headed
for the coastline of Belize. It was predicted to intensify, and
become a very dangerous storm, a deadly storm. I felt real fear
then, very worried about Ray. However, we had been in the Turks
and Caicos Islands a few years earlier, when Hurricane Bonnie came
simewhat close to the island we were on, and I remembered the extreme
precautions taken by everryone on the island, from the hotel, to the
dive shop and boats, to restaurants, stores, everywhere. I
figured that the same kind of precautions would be taken aboard the
Wave Dancer, so I tried not to be too worried.
The next morning, as I prepared to leave for work, Ray called from the
Wave Dancer. I was really shocked to hear his voice, and he told
me that they were on their way to a "hurricane haven", Big Creek, where
Captain Martin had assured them that they would be just fine.
Phillip Martin had told the divers that if they got off the boat, they
would miss several days of diving, but if they stayed onboard as the
hurricane passed, they would only miss one day. Ray specifically
told me that Martin said those very words, so there is no doubt that he
did. We all know now how that lie turned out. Phillip
Martin had not even bothered to check the weather reports, being
broadcast everywhere, or else he did know, and through the direction of
Peter Hughes or at his own ignorance, decided that nothing like that
could possibly happen, and there was no way he wanted to miss any
money. Money seems to have ruled everything done that horrible
day. I was very upset that Ray had called, never expecting that,
and he could only talk for a couple of minutes as several other people
were waiting their turn on the phone. I started feeling like he
was saying good-bye. I went to work, because I did not know what
else to do, but was scared all day.
Upon returning home that evening, I turned on the TV immediately, and
discovered that Hurricane Iris had indeed made a direct hit on Belize,
in fact exactly where Ray had been taken. I started calling the
infamous 24-hour emergency line for Peter Hughes, the one that he had
assured all his passengers that they or their families would be able to
get someone at any time, immediately, of the day or night. I was
crying, screaming, begging for someone to call me, but no one ever
did. I was awake all night, watching the time pass on the clock,
one minute at a time. I was trying so hard to relax, even a
little, but that was not possible.
At about 4:40am, Tuesday, October 9, my phone rang, and I immediately
thought it just had to be Ray, telling me that they were all OK, and
where he was. But, instead, a woman's voice came on the line, one
I did not recognize, identifying herself as Jenny Chappell, from the
Richmond Dive Club. I was still hoping that she was making the
calls to let everyone know that their loved one was OK. When she
actually said the words, "The boat that Ray was on has capsized."
I could not make sense of the words. I kept asking her to repeat
herself, asked more and more questions, that she seemed not to have any
answers for, not wanting to let go of the connection. But, she
had many more calls to make, so I had to hang up. For about 2
hours, I just laid there, immobile, numb, scared, crying, staring at
the ceiling, willing the phone to ring. The only information she
had been able to give me was that Ray was listed as "missing". As
far as I could think, that meant he was gone, because if you are
missing, in a boat upside down in the water, you must have
drowned. I could not imagine any other scenario. At about
7:30 am, I called work, to tell them I would not be in, and why.
My very good friend was the one who answered the phone, thank
God. She wanted to come over immediately, but I told her I would
be all right by myself. She told a few of the people there that I
was close to, and they all wanted to come over. I kept saying I
would be all right alone. I didn't know what else to do. I
started walking all over the house, looking for any and all shreds of
information I had on the Wave Dancer, and the passenger list. Ray
had indeed been supposed to be on the Aggressor, but shortly before the
trip, was switched to the Wave Dancer, to room with Buddy Webb, because
another diver had taken ill. Ray liked Buddy, had gotten to know
him well the year before, on the Sun Dancer, and had been dive buddies
with him several times. He was so pleased to be on the Wave
Dancer, because he knew he would already know almost everyone.
There was no way he could have suspected anything, who would?
But, the Aggressor captain went back to dock on Sunday night, not
Monday morning, thus making the difference between life and
death. I also started making phone calls, to the Coast Guard, the
U.S. Embassy in Belize, the State Department in Washington, D.C.,
anywhere and everywhere I could think of. None of those calls
yielded any information or help. I cannot even begin to explain
the sheer desperation I was feeling, the helplessness, the absolute
fear.
About 11am, one of my friends from work did come over, saying she did
not want me to be alone, as I had been so far. I did not call any
family member or friend, because I still had a flicker of hope that
somehow Ray would be all right. He was such a strong, capable
man, it did not seen possible that he could have been killed. It
just was not in my thinking, I could not get it in my mind at
all. Sandy and I waited for hours, waiting for the phone to ring,
and calling Hughes Diving, and others on our cell phones, never getting
even an answer to the ringing of the phone. Early in the
afternoon, our neighbor, Doug, called from his work, and asked me if I
wanted him to come home. I couldn't figure out why he would ask
such a thing, how could he possibly know anything? But, he said
it had started being broadcast on the news, and then I became very
concerned about notifying so many people, and what to say,and how to
say it. Right after that, one of the secretaries from Ray's work
called, asking me if Ray was on that boat. His love of diving was
known to everyone, so they all knew where he was. She started
just screaming when I told her he was. Then another good friend,
one who worked with Ray, Denise, called and asked if she could come
over. She and Ray were really good friends, so she was also quite
upset. She came over right away, and practically lived at the
house with other family and friends for a week. I was watched
over constantly, by many people, and they all did so very much for me,
I almost did not have to get out of the chair.
My major concern right then was how to notify our son, who was on a
trip to Florida with some friends. They had all gone to a Miami
Dolphins game on Sunday, his father's favorite team, and he was
planning to get many souveniers for Ray from the stadium. I got
one of Ray, Jr.'s other friends to contact him, and have him call
me. He just fell apart when I told him what had happened, and
that was even before anyone had seen fit to give me the correct
information. I know that it was well known that Ray was among the
victims, but no one would tell me. Raymond got on a plane very
soon after that phone call, and had to make a stopover in Philadelphia,
on the way to Baltimore. He did not know the fate of his father
on that whole flight, so it was a horribly painful, terrifying time for
him, also he was alone. I was beyond hysteria in trying to figure
out what to do to help him, but there was nothing. It was truly a
nightmare.
More and more friends came over, and we all were calling everyone and
anyone we could think of, again on our cell phones, leaving the house
phone free, waiting for the news we all dreaded. No one ever
called, definitely not Peter Hughes, who later said he did, but that a
man answered at my home, and said I was unavailable. The only man
present at that time was Doug, our neighbor and friend, who did not
answer my phone, and would never have said anything like that
anyway. Yet another lie by Peter Hughes. And how completely
insulting to all of us. Finally just before 6:30pm, Jenny Chappel
called back, telling me to call the U.S. Consulate in D.C., but to wait
10 minutes, as she had to call them first. I think she may have
known what I would be told, but I hold no bad feelings for her, in the
giving of information. She was in a really horrible situation,
having to tell so many people such awful news, and many of them people
she did not know at all, like me. So, I called at 6:44pm, and was
put on hold for what seemed a very long time. Finally, an Ian
Brownlee got on the phone, and told me how sorry he was. Keep in
mind that he had not told me anything factually yet, nor had anyone
else. Literally, my heart sank, but I managed to ask him what he
was sorry about, since I still had not been told what had happened to
the most important person in my world. He finally said that Ray
had been identified, and was dead. The real truth is that it had
been almost 22 hours since Ray had been identified, and no one had been
concerned enough to let me know till then. All those hours I was
so scared, so worried, so absolutely out of my mind, there was a very
good reason for. Then, I got off the phone, and all those with me
in the house already knew by my conversation what had happened. I
then had to call family back, telling them that Ray was not missing,
but had been killed. No one could believe it, in fact, none of us
have been able to actually grasp it in reality yet. I don't think
it ever will really seem possible, even though it is all too painfully
clear that I am alone, without the most wonderful man in the world, and
it truly is the worst thing that could ever happen. Ray, Jr.
called me on the layover in Philadelphia, so I had to tell him the
truth, over the phone. The most painful words I have ever spoken
to anyone.
So, it was over 14 hours from the time Jenny called me that morning,
till Ian Brownlee, in his stupid, bumbling way, that Ray was
dead. What a stupid, horrible person he was for me to hear that
news from. It continued to seem that if anything else bad could
happen, it would. Then, we can begin the wait about when the
bodies would be returned, the beginning of several days of back and
forth, back and forth, different stories from each person I talked
to. I had really desccended into the lowest level of Hell
possible.
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