Singular Circumstances Impede Grieving Process

The Gamboas aren’t waiting for his body, not that they really expect it to turn up. And though they’re Roman Catholic, they’re not having a funeral for Ronald, a Hollywood Hills resident who died alongside his partner and their 3-year-old adopted son aboard the United Airlines jet that crashed into the World Trade Center.

Instead, family and friends gathered Friday night in his hometown outside Louisville, Ky., for a memorial service at his alma mater, Trinity High School. Neighbors had to make the arrangements, down to the prayer cards, so stricken was the family.

“We just didn’t know what to do next,” said his sister, Maria Gamboa. “We were at a complete loss.”

Many thousands of Americans are struggling with the same void, suddenly and spectacularly bereft of loved ones killed in Tuesday’s terrorist attacks. But their grief is compounded, for crucial elements of the rites and services that humanity has created over the ages to absorb death’s blow are largely unavailable to them.

Few will have the privilege of viewing, burying or cremating the body, variations on an ancient rite that religion scholars and psychologists agree can facilitate mourning. The solace of gathering families and friends may be limited by travel restrictions.

“The question is: How do people arrive at closure under circumstances like these?” said Wade Clark Roof, chairman of religious studies at UC Santa Barbara. “Historically, it has been common in most religions to view the body or have it present, to help face up to reality.”

For families of the doomed airline passengers, who have officially been declared dead, mourning rituals are complicated by the horrific nature of the attacks and their constant replay on TV.

“That’s a terrible lasting memory that I don’t think traditional rituals are equipped to deal with,” Roof said.

“If you don’t have a body, you don’t have a lot,” said Alberta Brandhorst, crying. A resident of the upstate New York town of Liverpool, she’s the mother of Daniel Brandhorst, 42, who died alongside Gamboa on United Airlines Flight 175. “We have nothing but memories of Dan.”

Her minister suggested a funeral, but she could not see the point. A large memorial service is scheduled at her son’s college alma mater in upstate New York on Friday. Another memorial for the men’s friends is planned for Tuesday in Los Angeles. Alberta’s three remaining children are hoping to attend, but they’re not sure they can get a flight.

In the family of Chandler “Chad” Keller, no one is ready to say goodbye. That process starts at a memorial next Saturday for the aerospace engineer, who worked in El Segundo. No funeral is planned, no headstone ordered, because the Kellers don’t expect any remains.

“It’s just too early for us to talk about how we are going to move on,” said father Richard Keller of Del Mar, Calif.

In the absence of burials, experts said, other rites of passage need to be created. Scholars cite the modern memorial service, often a mixture of spiritual and secular elements, as an example. Even a memorial plaque helps.

“It doesn’t really matter how it’s done, but people need to find personally significant and appropriate ways to mark the fact that this person is not here any longer,” said clinical psychologist Therese Rando.

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The husband of Dora Menchaca, an Amgen Inc. scientist who died aboard the American Airlines jet that dive-bombed the Pentagon, is struggling to adjust.

Earl Dorsey, sitting quietly in their Santa Monica home--now filled with flowers and food baskets--said he was in denial, a state that psychologists call an early, and temporary, stage of grief.

“I keep saying ‘we’ and ‘our.’ I keep forgetting,” he said.

Much the same goes for the victim’s brother, John Menchaca of San Gabriel. “I keep thinking she’s still on a business trip,” he said.

Her company is planning a memorial service this weekend, but, he said, some family members might not make it because of the limits on air travel.

Dorsey’s great burden these last few days was how to tell his 5-year-old son that his mother was gone. Finally, he did so Friday morning, with help from a school counselor and his 18-year-old daughter, Imani, whose Swahili name means “faith.”

“He was devastated,” Dorsey said. “He cried uncontrollably for 30 minutes. I told him his mother was here with us. He said, ‘No, she’s not. She’s far, far away.’ ”

Proving that ritualized grieving is not only for adults, the boy said he wanted to plant a purple rose bush. One of the last things his mother told him was that they would buy purple flowers when she got home.

Although travel restrictions have complicated many plans for services, some grief specialists said the outpouring of sympathy across the country may help comfort those who lost loved ones.

“The fact that so many people are involved and the social support around this is so tremendous is likely to be a source of comfort that isn’t usually there,” said psychologist Gerald Koocher, dean of the graduate school of health at Boston’s Simmons College.

Amid the chaos, the Gamboas are thankful for one thing: They know Ronald’s fate.

“Just this morning my dad turned on the TV, and he felt so terrible for these families standing on the sidewalk with pictures of their loved ones they can’t find,” Maria Gamboa said. “He just couldn’t imagine not knowing.”

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Times staff writers Shawn Hubler, Gary Polakovic and Terence Monmaney contributed to this story.