Many of those with missing friends or family members cannot bear to sit and wait while the scientists complete their work. Idan Geva is one of a group of young professionals who flew to Thailand from Israel to search for their friend Aya Shapira, 27, and her boyfriend, Uzi Sagi, 28. "They were staying somewhere in the Khao Lak area," says Geva. "We're searching the area for some kind of clue." He and his friends hired boats to explore the Phi Phi and Similan islands, on the off-chance that Shapiro and Sagi had gone on a diving trip. One of their team, a data expert, tried in vain to locate the computer from which the couple sent their last e-mail, at 9:43 p.m. on Christmas Day. They pored over lists of victims on a website so overtrafficked that it temporarily crashed. They examined hundreds of corpses, despite warnings from Thai police to stay away because of growing health concerns. "It wasn't a pretty sight," says Geva, "but it's something that needs to be done." They barely slept or ate for a week.

Then, finally, a clue. In a Khao Lak dive shop they found Shapiro's and Sagi's names on the waiting list for a diving trip, along with their resort name and room number. Geva's group—which met with members of ZAKA, an Israeli volunteer organization famous for scraping up the body parts of terrorism victims to give them proper Jewish burials—combed through the wrecked resort, but found nothing more. Their friends had perhaps been washed out to sea or lay in morgues where experts might eventually identify them from the dental records and DNA samples the group had brought from Israel. Dazed with grief and fatigue, the Israelis decided to head home last Thursday. "I wish I could have done more," says Geva, having already done so much.

Relatives will do everything they can to keep hope alive," says William Hoppe, an American psychologist volunteering in Phuket. "That's a normal human reaction."

Anders Ericsson, father of Ragnar—the Norwegian toddler with a birthmark on his back—rises daily at 5 a.m. to investigate tantalizing reports that a "little blond-haired boy" has been seen at this temple or that hospital. His search seems increasingly futile, but it is "incredibly valuable," says Trevor Fisher, a British nurse who has assisted Ericsson. "It's the only thing that brings comfort until the body is finally identified. All the relatives are walking away from this tragedy at their own pace. We can't take that away from them."

Though losses suffered by foreign tourists are profound, locals—who lost not just family, but homes and livelihoods—face even greater challenges. Prapa Sae Heng, 51, hails from the Thai fishing community of Nam Khem, where thousands perished. He was with his wife Amporn when the tsunami capsized their boat. Prapa held her safe until vicious currents dragged her off an hour later. Badly injured and wracked with guilt, he later hobbled around the temples to look for her body. Unlike foreign tourists, he has no photo of her to pin on notice boards: the disaster claimed his house and all its contents. "She's dead for sure," says Prapa from his temporary home on the concrete floor of a hospital parking lot. His 22-year-old son Thawit, however, continues to search. "I want to find my mother's body so we can do a proper ceremony," he says. Closure might be a Western concept, but Asians ache for it just the same.

For many, it may never come. Some bodies will not be found, some will prove impossible to identify. But for Thai survivor Somsap Sukdi, the uncertainty is over. A few days after the tsunami, she came to Phuket's provincial hall to pin up pictures of her missing German husband, Markus Knoesel. Now, carrying their two-year-old son Jimmy in her arms, Somsap slowly walks the length of the notice board, removing the same leaflets with tears streaming down her face. Knoesel's body was positively identified the previous day. "He's not missing anymore," she says softly, a widow at 30 years old.

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	In the Wake of Tragedy [Jan. 10, 2005] On the morning of Dec. 26, an earthquake off Sumatra was followedby a massive tsunami. Asia's suffering touched the world Tallying the Damage [Jan. 10, 2005] Asia's engine room wasn't swamped, but the waves wiped out countless jobs and rebuilding may take years Europe: Lost In The Waves [Jan. 10, 2005] The tsunami engulfed Europe too, as millions grieved for those caught in its maw and looked for ways to help After The Flood [Jan. 10, 2005] With disease looming, the world launches a massive relief effort. Will the aid reach the victims in time? How To Help [Jan. 10, 2005] A guide to donating and how to contact relief organizations on the ground More Related Items | Search all issues of TIME Magazine