He'd been down there over a week already. I found out by reading Express during an unscheduled ride on the Metro last week. (My car got booted while I was lunching and chatting with Posties.)
I knew there'd been an accident. I'd spent that Saturday lolling in bed alternately napping and whatnot amid the intermittent squalls. On a food run--crabcakes in bed, anyone?--I heard the news on WAMU. After finally de-bedding at about 4:30, on the way to Costco, I learned that not everyone had been recovered.
As I read on the train last Thursday, my second thought, 'maybe it's another 26 year old Andrew Roccella. Coincidence', gave way when I read further. He was a technical writer. My audible reaction drew sideways glances.
He worked for me a few years ago, his first job outta college, I think. Tall, Opie-like, complete with red hair and freckles. My mind's eye sees him often now. He called a couple of years ago, staying in touch, inquiring after my pumpkin. Nice, eager, thoughtful guy. Planning things to do with his girlfriend when she visited on weekends. They found her today.
Rest in peace, Andrew.