Dunia Meza's son called his mother to the television set Monday morning.
On the screen were images of the destruction wrought by southern Asia's giant earthquake and tsunami that killed tens of thousands of people.
Dunia Meza's son called his mother to the television set Monday morning.
On the screen were images of the destruction wrought by southern Asia's giant earthquake and tsunami that killed tens of thousands of people.
"I wouldn't want to be there. I understand what that's like, the desperation," said Ramon Jr., 14. "Those poor people."
As Meza watched the wrenching scenes from the Indian Ocean, images from a year ago flashed in her head: The picnic in the mountains last Christmas, the unexpected rain, a growl in the air, and the sudden deluge of water, boulders and trees that forever split her family.
"When I saw people on the news [in Asia] trying to stay on the cars, I remembered that day, scratching my way to the top of that hill," said Meza, 31.
She remembers how the building where she had last seen Ramon Jr., 11-year-old Edgar David and her husband, Ramon Sr., 29, was obliterated by a surge of muddy water and debris.
"I fell to my knees," she recalled. She begged for God to spare her family.
Fourteen people died when that flash flood swept through the campsite in the San Bernardino Mountains where Meza and other members of a church group were celebrating Christmas.
Her husband and son Edgar were among the victims.
She was able to cling to 8-year-old Jose. An hour later, she was reunited with Ramon Jr. at a hospital. They were among only 10 survivors of the flood.
It has been a year of grief and grinding recovery for the Meza family, though she said she has gotten through it because of her faith and the help of friends and strangers who donated money and offered other assistance.
Edgar's body was not found until April, four months after the tragedy.
Meza said her family still struggles to readjust. Jose, now 9, wears his father's muscle shirts.
"He's a little chubby, so they fit him," Meza said with a laugh. "He won't let me get rid of his father's clothes. To him, his father was his hero."
At night, Jose wears one of his father's gray work shirts to sleep. He has become keenly interested in the Weather Channel and worries about traveling during heavy rains. A few months ago the family was going to take a trip to Los Angeles, but Jose saw on television that heavy rain was forecast there.
"I won't go! I won't go!" he told his mother. "He was afraid," she said. "I explained to him that what had happened to us was something that wouldn't be repeated."
Ramon Jr. doesn't like talking about last Christmas, but his strong demeanor shows cracks. He listens to Christian music in his room. Lyrics from a favorite song promise that God "will cure all my wounds, he will heal all."
Ramon Jr. said he wanted to set an example for his little brother.
"His eyes are always on me. I want him to follow the right path," he said. "I try not to show too much emotion. I cry, but only when I'm alone. My little brother shows it. I don't."
Meza said she wants to help her two remaining sons overcome the trauma because she thinks something good can come to others.
"There will be more disasters like this in the future," she said. "And I think my boys can one day be prepared to help other people, because of what they went through. Every day, they're healing a little bit more."
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Meza's is just one of the stories of the demands that grief made this year on the faith of members of Iglesia de Dios de la Profecia, said Pastor Emilio Ruedas. All but two of the dead and most of the survivors were parishioners of that San Bernardino church. But Ruedas said that in the year since, he has seen signs of restoration.
"In the beginning, I read from scripture and told them, 'God will help you. God will bless you in this same earth that has afflicted you,' " Ruedas said.
On Sunday, a simple brick monument was dedicated to those who perished. In part, it reads: "In memory of our brothers who left with the Lord on Dec. 25, 2003. We remember them with love."
The campground where the flash flood took place is actually owned by another church, St. Sophia's in Los Angeles.
It has been closed since the Christmas flood a year ago.
The mud has dried and hardened and weeds have sprouted. Huge boulders remain scattered about. Although the property is fenced now, most of the buildings have been looted, said Perry Skaggs, who runs youth camps for St. Sophia's.
In August, Skaggs and some camp employees returned to retrieve what remained of religious items, crosses and other icons. A large cast iron bell that had been used at the camp was recovered and has been mounted at the St. Sophia Cathedral in Los Angeles.
"We took as much as we could," Skaggs said. "Things to remind us and give us a touchstone for some of the memories that were wrapped in that site."
This past summer, a new camp at Crestline played host to about 100 children, Skaggs said. There were many questions about the flash flood, and about Jorge Monzon and his family, the camp caretakers who were killed in the flood.