There had to be over a hundred bodies laid out in front of me. The canvases were colorful—blues and greens and even bright pink. It looked more like a circus than a morgue. If I hadn’t known what was underneath those tarps, I might have thought that it was beautiful.

“Do you need some help?”

There was a man—a foreigner, a tourist—standing beside me. His voice was calm and his expression was gentle. I almost instinctively said no, but then thought better of it.

“I’m looking for my family. My mother and father and brother.”

“You were separated from them when the tsunami struck?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I stayed home when they came here on holiday. I came down to search…from New York.”

“I’m from California,” he said. “I was here on holiday when it hit.”

“And you’re looking for somebody too?”

“Everybody in my party, my friends and I, we all got away safely. They’re already heading home. I couldn’t do that. There’s too much here that needs to be done. I’m trying to connect those who need to be connected, and offering assistance to those who need help when there aren’t any connections. Do you need to look?” he said, gesturing to the bodies.

I nodded.

“I’ll come with you. My name is Seth.”

“I’m Elizabeth…Beth…Beth Brooks.”

“Hello, Beth.”

He shook my hand. I’d never thought before about how much a handshake can convey, but his was warm, reassuring, sympathetic. I immediately felt grateful to him for sticking around. I needed help more than I wanted to admit.

“Beth, most of the bodies here are those of tourists. All are people who haven’t been identified yet. Even people who were carrying ID that day were stripped of it by the force of the wave.”

He led me in and we stopped in front of the first body. Once again he reached out his hand, and I took it.

“This first row is children, the middle row is females, and the last is males.”

“The first row is longer than the others,” I said.

“Children and old people were more likely to be killed than adults. Maybe because they couldn’t run, or they didn’t have the strength to hold on.”

I thought of my mother, then, tried to picture her running when I knew sometimes she had trouble even walking because of the MS.

“Because of who you’re searching for we have to look through all the rows. I’m sorry. I wish there were a better way to do this, but there isn’t. I’m going to pull back the tarp and you look at the face,” Seth said. “Some of the bodies are in rough shape, bloated or—”

“I’ve seen the pictures. I know.”

“It’s different looking at the person. You have to look hard to make sure. Sometimes people have trouble recognizing a family member, or maybe they just don’t want to recognize them. You have to take your time.”

He let go of my hand. He knelt down beside the first body and slowly pulled back the tarp. In a flash it revealed a very young, very blond girl. She couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven. Poor kid. Poor family. Before I could even say anything he covered her back up. He knew I was looking for my brother.