Christine Durwood, who tragically lost her husband and son in the Titan submarine incident three years ago, shared her heart-wrenching experience of bringing their remains home nine months after the disaster. She recounted that the bodies were not recovered until then and described them as “mud” left in two small boxes, resembling shoeboxes.
“The body was not found for nine months,” Durwood explained in a recent interview. “When I say bodies, I mean the mud that was left behind.” She reflected on how little could be identified about her husband, Shahzada Dawood, 48, and their son, Suleman, 19, both of whom lived in London. “They had a big pile of mixed DNA, and they asked if I wanted it, but I said no. All that mattered was Suleman and Shahzada,” she added.
Tragically, the two men died on June 18, 2023, alongside Oceangate CEO Stockton Rush, businessman Hamish Harding, and Titanic expert Paul-Henri Narjolet, when their submarine imploded while descending towards the Titanic wreck in the North Atlantic.
Durwood recalled the last moments she spent with them, remembering Suleman had a Rubik’s cube in hopes of setting a record for solving it in the deepest place possible. “We had a chuckle because Shahzada was a bit clumsy on the stairs. It was a quick goodbye,” she said, reflecting on the moment they left.
A few hours later, she overheard someone mention the loss of contact with the submersible. “They said, ‘Don’t worry, it’s not unusual.’ What was I supposed to think? I felt stuck on the ship, believing what they said,” she admitted.
Attempting to cope, she told herself they were just stuck inside the submarine, although she worried, as both her son and husband weren’t very adept in the dark. “I knew the darkness they were facing was unlike anything else; you can’t see anything. It was terrifying,” she explained.
Durwood observed that the crew seemed to be in denial, acting as if nothing had happened. In her mind, she suspected there was something more behind Oceangate’s reassurances. “Without hope, I would have crumbled much faster,” she reflected.
While the wait continued, the crew organized activities like jam sessions and movies, which she found unsettling. “They seemed more focused on distracting themselves. I tried to join in, but it felt like a betrayal. Watching ‘Wayne’s World’ while they were in danger just didn’t sit right with me,” she recalled.
Eventually, the wreckage of the submarine was located, and the U.S. Coast Guard described it as a “catastrophic implosion.” Determined to find solace, Durwood said, “When they confirmed it was devastating, I was relieved, knowing Shahzada and Suleman didn’t suffer. One moment, they were there, and the next, they were not. That knowledge helps somehow.”
Dealing with the aftermath, she found herself overwhelmed by the practicalities of loss. “What do you do with their belongings?” she pondered. While she managed to pack Shahzada’s things, she couldn’t bring herself to touch Suleman’s belongings. “Someone else did it,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness.
In a report released last year, the Coast Guard labeled the implosion a “preventable tragedy,” citing failures in Ocean Gate’s safety practices. Reflecting on the loss, Durwood mentioned her mixed feelings toward Stockton Rush. “I had many reasons to feel anger towards him, but what good would it do? If I stay angry, I give him power over me. I’d rather focus on myself. It’s not easy, but I make that choice every day.”
Durwood is trying to navigate her grief, stating, “Sometimes I go to Suleman’s room, and find the cat sleeping on his pillow. I sit on the bed to allow my sadness to flow. Over time, the grief subsides until it becomes overwhelming again. I’m learning to grieve for Suleman first—and then for my husband. It’s painful but different, even if people often see it as one loss.”
