SURFSIDE, Fla. — Luis Bermudez’s voice cracked as he spoke to his deceased 26-year-old boy, calling him his hero and a “warrior” who overcame every challenge in his short life. Muscular dystrophy did not hamper his son’s joy, a joy that still gives his father strength a year after “Louiyo” died in the collapse of Champlain Towers South.
”Thank you, Louiyo, for being my son, the most important person in my life, for being my best friend,” Bermudez said on Friday. He stood in front of hundreds of neighbors, first responders and politicians — including Florida’s governor and the wife of the president of the United States — just feet away from the crater where the condo tower once stood. At times, Bermudez raised his hands and voice, as if he was releasing something he’d held back for some time, calling out to his son’s spirit.
On Friday, to mark the anniversary of the day 98 people were lost in a tragedy that changed Surfside forever, survivors, the families of victims and the community gathered for a three-hour memorial at the site of collapse.
Most of the rubble has been hauled away but twisted strands of rebar still jut from the condo’s park garage, reminders of a unprecedented and catastrophic collapse that shocked a nation. The emotional wounds were still raw for those who lost loved ones and those who escaped.
”It doesn’t go away,” said Moshe Candiotti, whose fourth-floor apartment trembled, but did not fall that night. So many of his neighbors down the hall were lost. Only some from the collapsed sections survived during the seven minute gap between 1:15 a.m., the moments the pool deck collapsed, and 1:22 a.m., when the tower crumbled.
As he arrived at the memorial, Candiotti talked about how the memories of his harrowing escape haunt him, with echoes of the survivor’s guilt that still weighs heavy on many of his neighbors. He said sometimes, a few beers helps him get through it.
”It always comes back,” he said.
Some at the gathering recounted inescapable memories, wavering between sweet family moments and the surreal aftermath of the disaster. Kids’ play dates. Shocked relatives screaming at a pile of rubble. A gash in the boot of an Israeli rescue worker, who thinks about Surfside every morning when he puts on his uniform. Late night phone calls between sisters just to sing a line from Disney’s “Frozen.”
“Do you want to build a snowman?” sang Ashley Dean, whose sister Cassie Stratton died at Champlain South. She was on the phone with her husband the moment when the building collapsed. “So now I think we’re building sand castles in the skies.”
The memorial spurred reunions.
A grieving mother and an Israel Defense Force search and rescue team member recognized each other while peering over a fence at the empty pit where the building once stood.
“I’m Gary Cohen’s mother, and you found his wedding ring,” Debra Cohen said to Tal Levy Diamenshtien. “Thank you. That was very comforting.”
“May I hug you?” Diamenshtien replied. The two embraced.
Cohen lost two sons a year ago — Gary, a doctor at a VA hospital in Alabama, and Brad, a Miami orthopedist who lived at Champlain South. Gary was visiting their ill father.
Diamenshtien, who traveled to Surfside from Modiin, Israel, immediately recalled she had also recovered Brad’s Torah. And she recalled Gary’s ring was engraved with words from the Song of Solomon.
Diamenshtien had a baby six weeks ago but she was determined to return to Surfside for the memorial.
“It’s a kind of closure to look at this site today because when we left we hadn’t finished the job, there were still bodies to be recovered from the rubble,” she said. “Now the job is done.”
She also wanted to see the family members again.
“We knew every person by name,” she said. “They are not healed or cured but we can speak. It’s important for me to see them at a different point in their journey and not in the middle of the disaster. Part of me is here so I can let go.”
Grim benchmarks mark the calendar since the collapse — 14 days of search rescue that gave way to search and recovery; a month before the final human remains were identified; almost a year before a $1 billion legal settlement finalized a deal to deliver some sort of relief to people who lost loved ones and property.
On Friday, though, many of the nearly 20 speakers focused on the community looking forward and learning how to cope.
“Take one breath at a time,” said First Lady Jill Biden, who flew down from The White House. “We are praying for you, and we are grieving with you.”
They touched on the nature of a community unified in grief and the will to honor the legacies of their lost loved ones. Raquel Oliveira was out of town when the building collapsed and she lost her husband Alfredo Leone and their 5-year-old son Lorenzo.
“They didn’t die; their lives were interrupted,” she said during her remarks, thanking the other Champlain families for supporting each other. “We are a village. Let’s not give up on justice, love, gratitude and forgiveness.”
Kevin Spiegel called his wife Judy, 65, the “matriarch and CEO of our family.” He and his three children have spent the past year honoring her memory by thanking those who have helped them.
Cohen, who lost her two sons, hopes for a legacy of more kindness.
“Gary and Brad were devoted to caring for others,” she said. “It was remarkable last year to see people come together to help one another. Kindness is what we need in a world with so much ill will. We’re reminded today how it has not completely disappeared.”
Hours after the collapse, the cloudy sky gave way to heavy rains. On Friday, the sun shone bright on a humid day where clouds never obscured the light. During his remarks, Gov. Ron DeSantis debuted a new road sign that will designate the stretch of Collins Avenue “98 Points of Light Road.”
“Before this happened, you go down these streets, and you see this condo buildings, and you don’t really think anything of it,” DeSantis said. “But you know each little unit represented a remarkable life and a remarkable story.”
Kerrey Billedeau, Stratton’s mother from New Orleans, said he hopes her daughter’s life is remembered more than her death.
“She packed 100 years into her 40,” Billedeau said. “So I say, don’t just remember Cassie, live like Cassie.”
Near the end of the memorial, several search and rescue workers took turns reading the names of each of the 98 people they were looking for on rubble pile that one official remembered as “hell on earth.” People across the audience raised their cellphones to film the solemn reading.
The crowd was silent, and a soft breeze slightly cooled the heavy air. When the last name was read, seven minutes had passed.
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(Herald staff writer Bianca Padró Ocasio contributed to this report.)
