A Tragedy
These two young women were apparently lovers. When they went missing, relatives found a diary of one of the girls in which she wrote that she wanted to die with her true love. They were found together, dead from carbon monoxide poisoning. Such a sad story that these two beautiful young women felt that the world had no place for them.
A Day for Many Tears And Many Questions
Family, Friends Mourn Potomac Teen
By Donna St. George
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, February 8, 2007; Page B01
It was what the rabbi called "the saddest of days" -- a snow-frosted Wednesday morning in Potomac, where 800 people turned out at the B'nai Tzedek synagogue to mourn a teenage girl whose story had captured their hopes and fears and whispered prayers.
Rachel Samantha Smith, 16, a well-liked A student at Montgomery County's Wootton High School, had been found dead by police five days earlier in an apparent double suicide in rural Loudoun County with one of her closest friends, 18-year-old Rachel Lacy Crites.
Rachel Smith died with a friend in an apparent double suicide.
The teenagers had been missing for nearly two weeks. As police, friends and strangers searched for them, they became known as "the Rachels," two young women who left their homes and families apparently believing their troubles were insurmountable.
Now, the younger Rachel was being laid to rest -- her family in the seats nearest her pine coffin: mother, father, sister, brother, grandparents and other relatives.
"The pain of this tragedy is felt by the entire community," Rabbi Stuart Weinblatt told the mourners, who filled row after row of chairs. The grief was so profound, he acknowledged, that it raised the question: "Are any more tears left in any of us?''
Clearly, there were.
They were shed as Rachel was remembered for her warmth and her wide smile, her touch of sarcasm, her love of animals, her loyalty toward friends.
They came as bits of her life were recounted: riding horses with her aunt and uncle in London and Argentina, attending summer camp, cycling the C&O Canal with her father, raising money to improve conditions for dogs at an animal shelter.
They were streaked across the face of a close friend who spoke about how lonely she is now, about how she and Rachel were the kind of friends who "finished each other's sentences."
Weinblatt spoke of Rachel's parents -- Marian, a preschool teacher at the synagogue, and Paul, an insurance and financial consultant. The family once owned a bagel shop in Montgomery County.
"After the store closed," the rabbi said, "she apparently never ate another bagel."
For a brief moment, there was laughter.
This, he said, was a reflection of "her deep, abiding sense of loyalty."
Taren Parsons, a friend and classmate, recalled Rachel's love of poetry and books, the hours they spent reading in a hammock, the games of Scrabble and Pictionary, the "countless movies" they watched and their "shared ex-boyfriends."
Rachel's nickname, she noted, was "Pi," a number that stretches into infinity, which she said was a comfort now, a suggestion that Rachel would always carry on.
There were few direct references to the circumstances of Rachel's death, apparently from carbon monoxide poisoning, and no mention of Crites, the friend with whom she died, but Weinblatt observed that "none of us can truly feel or imagine what Rachel must have been feeling."
Crites's father attended the service. His daughter's funeral will be Saturday, at St. Martin of Tours Church in Gaithersburg.
As Weinblatt closed the morning service yesterday, he appealed directly to students grappling with Rachel's death and reminded them that "life is a series of peaks and valleys." While troubles may seem big, he said, none is ever too overwhelming to work out.
He went on: "Each of us should know that we are never alone."
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