This one hurts

Yesterday, I cut my Cleveland news newsletter short to help report on the Tuscarawas County High School band crash. We didn’t know much when I hit send on the newsletter yesterday afternoon. Now we do. All six of the deceased were connected to the school in some way. Three students who were on the bus and a teacher and two parents who were chaperoning the trip while riding in another vehicle died in the crash. The band was headed to play at an education conference in Columbus. They canceled the conference when they heard the news. Many of the educators at that conference have sent kids out on buses to events all over the state, hoping they’ll always return safely. This was the rare and horrible time they didn’t. Everyone there had to feel that deeply.

I watched the vigil at the high school last night, and my heart ached with every moan and cry. I cried with them. Giving me strength: I thought the school officials handled it appropriately. This is not a time for people to be alone. This is a time to come together at a football stadium and lean on each other for support. That’s why you have a vigil. That’s why you open the school the next day and let the students and the counselors in to talk to each other, to be sad and angry and have every emotion they deserve to feel. Together. Grief isn’t something we’re meant to do alone. Look at the customs the cultures of the world have developed to deal with death – when we lose someone, we gather, we don’t drift.

Some on social media last night questioned why the press was at the vigil. I get it. I really do. If it was my community, I don’t think my first reaction would be, “Sure am glad all those TV cameras are here!” Something I know about covering tragedies in the past – the people in the stadium last night were not the only ones who were grieving. We all needed to feel connected and needed to hear some words to get us through this, and that’s the value of what journalists can offer to the public in times of tragedy. A moment of community, even when separated by geography. We need to know the loss is being recognized and that the moment of recognition is profound. It says those who were lost will be missed. It’s the only thing we can give them.

There is still much we don’t know – mainly, why the accident happened. I’ve seen blame from social media commenters thrown around, but it’s too early for blame, and we don’t know what happened yet. It is not time to point fingers. A federal/state investigation will begin that process, and we’ll cover it when it happens. It’s an emotional time, but it’s also a time to set those emotions aside and let the system do what it’s designed to do, even if that happens slower than we’d all like. We owe it to everyone touched by this tragedy to get the justice piece of this right.

You will see more stories from our reporters today and in the coming days. This is what we do. We give the people who have something to say in the face of tragedy a platform to say it – to let friends and family and neighbors wipe away tears and say, “he will be missed,” “she was my best friend,” “he was one heck of a great student.” The community honors their memories. We tell their stories with pictures, words and sounds. All are remembered. As they should be.

Prayers for Tusky Valley.

If you’re looking for a way to help, the school district has launched a fund to aid those affected.