The search for clues into the crash of Comair Flight 3272 will peel back the physics, the endless technical stuff about de-icing controls and flight data recorder parameters.
But it will mean little in the living rooms and kitchens of those who lost loved ones, who now grieve a sudden death, occasionally catching themselves waiting for the garage door to open.
There will be funeral arrangements and calls from lawyers they don't know and explanations to children that go absolutely nowhere.
There will be hearts that quietly break when no one is looking.
And in time, hearts that heal.
''It gets better, you get stronger, but no, for now, nothing anyone says will even connect,'' said Doug Alpern of suburban Pittsburgh, whose wife, Shelley, died with 131 others aboard USAir Flight 427 on Sept. 8, 1994. The cause of the crash 7 miles from Pittsburgh International Airport remains unknown.
Closure, many ''survivors'' and psychology experts agree, is the key to rebuilding their lives.
Closure can be getting a loved one's remains for a proper burial. Some victims of the crash of Flight 427 never got that, and their survivors turned for closure to answers that never came about the crash's cause. Sudden deaths, such as in plane crashes, prompt a special need for closure because there is no emotional preparation, as is the case with a lengthy illness, experts agree.
''Having some formal recognition of someone's life, and the end of it, is important - and that's what closure provides,'' University of Cincinnati psychology professor Edward Klein said. ''Uncertainty keeps doors too open. Support groups are very useful in that way.''
Families reaching out to other crash victims is increasingly common, prompted in large part by the crashes of Flight 427 and American Eagle Flight 4284 in Roselawn, Ind., a month later.
Doug Smith of Burlington, Vt., whose daughter, Alison, and 67 others died that Halloween night in 1994, is now president of the National Air Disaster Alliance, a national support group.
Mr. Smith's daughter, 30 when she died, was engaged to be married that Thanksgiving weekend.
''We had nowhere to turn back then,'' Mr. Smith explained. ''But that's changed. And Cincinnati should know Comair is to be complimented for its response.''
Other disasters have spawned more support groups. The crash of TWA Flight 800 off New York's coast prompted one victim's daughter to form Wings of Light, Inc. And when Northwest Flight 255 crashed near Detroit almost 10 years ago, another support group formed - Flight 255: Their Spirit Lives On.
Another who lost a loved one at Roselawn, Ind., was Jennifer Stansberry, whose brother, Brad, was a recent college graduate then.
She went to Detroit after Flight 3272's crash to help families cope with the loss. So did Tony Zanger of Monroe, Mich., who lives 4 miles from the crash site of 3272. Mr. Zanger's brother, Mike, and Mike's fiancee, Hollings Langston, died with 154 others in 1987 in the crash of Northwest Flight 255.
Although victim advocates commend Comair, many in Pittsburgh were far less pleased with the response from USAir following that crash. And in the subsequent NTSB public hearing into the crash, held over five days in Pittsburgh, every answer led to two new questions, adding to families' frustration.
Mr. Alpern had hoped to find some closure in the proceedings. He found none. But in other ''survivors'' he found people who understood, without the false optimism some outsiders clumsily offered with good intentions.
''Best thing I can tell these people is to stick together, because no one else has a clue what they're going through,'' Mr. Alpern said.
In addition to raising his son alone, Mr. Alpern also struggled with a cruel irony: His wife wasn't supposed to be on Flight 427. Her meeting in Chicago concluded early that day and she hustled to the airport to catch an earlier flight so she could be home for dinner.
Though private counseling helped many, Joanne Shortley, like Mr. Alpern, found the most strength in a support group of ''survivors.'' They became the 427 Air Disaster League, which led to the national alliance.
''Some came for weeks and said nothing, but for all of us, in our own way, it helped tremendously,'' said Mrs. Shortley of suburban Pittsburgh, whose husband, Steven, 37, was killed, leaving her with two teen-agers. ''We pray for (those involved in 3272) to get strength. And time does help.''
Many have forged lifelong friendships and speak of finding strength in themselves that they didn't know they had.
''Steven would be so proud, and shocked, at the person I've become,'' said Mrs. Shortley, for whom closure came in her husband's bent ring - returned from the crash site - that she now wears as a necklace.
Mrs. Shortley also found strength in her husband's wallet. When it was returned to her with other belongings, a note her daughter Lisa had stuck in it the morning of his flight, signed ''Love, Lisa,'' was not where Lisa had left it. That soothed Mrs. Shortley, knowing her husband had read the note and put it back elsewhere.
When President Clinton signed the anti-terrorism bill in September,, which addressed a wide range of airline safety issues, Mrs. Shortley was standing behind him, about 5 feet away.
She had gone to Washington with another widow of 427 - a former stranger now a close friend.
They flew there together, another in a growing list of personal triumphs.
Getting help
Several organizations spawned by other airplane crashes are offering assistance to those who lost loved ones aboard Comair flight 3272. They include:
National Air Disaster Alliance, toll-free, (888) 444-6232 .
Flight 427 Air Disaster League, (412) 464-0857.
Reporter Dana DiFilippo contributed to this report.
HUNDREDS MOURN LOCAL VICTIMS
COMAIR'S REPONSE PRAISED
PROFILES OF VICTIMS
TEN DAYS OF CRASH COVERAGE
