Fifteen years after the crash of USAir Flight 427, the unshakable, crippling grief that tormented crash victims' loved ones and emergency workers who witnessed the carnage largely has abated.

Life finds a way to crowd out dark thoughts, survivors say, even when it appears to invite reminders.

"Some reminder still pops up every day," said Dennis Connolly, 58, of Brookline, who lost his twin, Robert, when Flight 427 crashed into a Hopewell hillside at 300 mph on Sept. 8, 1994, killing all 132 people on board.

"It could be something unexpected like getting $4.27 in change, or maybe you look at the clock and it's 4:27. Stuff like that happens, but it just isn't debilitating like it could have been years ago."

Donna Kazan, 50, of South Fayette agrees.

"It's not as constant," Kazan said about the grief. She lost her father, Lee Weaver, 62, in the crash.

But Kazan said strange things happen. One afternoon this summer, she realized while driving to a friend's daughter's graduation party that her gas tank was almost empty. She decided to pull off at the next Route 60 exit — not realizing it would be the exit near the hillside crash site.

"I pulled off and could see one tree (on the hill) that's bare around all the green ones. That knocked me down a few notches," Kazan said.

There are a host of predictable triggers, too.

Memories rush back for former Beaver County Coroner Wayne Tatalovich Jr., lead coroner for the crash, every time he gets on a plane.

For Gary Tranelli, the assistant Hopewell police chief, who saw the plane go down while at a daughter's soccer game, it's low-flying planes.

Pittsburgh Fire Chief Darryl Jones, one of the first responders as an Aliquippa fire captain, and Allegheny County Medical Examiner Dr. Karl E. Williams, a forensic pathologist for the crash, said all headline-grabbing disasters jog memories.

The Flight 427 Air Disaster Support League plans to conduct memorial events today and Tuesday. Kazan, co-president of the league, expects more than 300 people to attend.

Connolly's nephew, Dan, was a month shy of his 11th birthday, and just one day through the fifth grade, when his father died in the crash while returning home to Upper St. Clair from a business trip in Chicago. Dan Connolly was one of at least 87 children younger than 18 who lost a parent in the crash, according to Tribune-Review records.

A month ago, Connolly, now almost 26, started working for a Washington consulting firm that helps clients handle issues ranging from crisis management to transportation safety. His boss, Jim Hall, was head of the National Transportation Safety Board when it investigated the Flight 427 crash.

"I probably never would have known Dan, if not for the crash," Hall said.

The two met just weeks after it happened, while Hall was in Pittsburgh. They met again at a memorial event commemorating the 10th anniversary of the crash, and then stayed in touch as Connolly completed his bachelor's degree at the University of Pittsburgh. He earned a law degree from George Washington University.

The NTSB probe overseen by Hall, which lasted almost five years, ultimately led to aircraft design changes and passage of the Aviation Disaster Family Assistance Act in 1996, which was geared toward helping crash victims' families, Hall said.

"I'm proudest of the family assistance act," Hall said. "That act didn't exist before Flight 427. It exists largely because of it."

"All of that definitely sparked my interest in public policy and started me on the march toward where I am today," Connolly said. "I learned how incredibly important what happens in Washington is to people everywhere."

Connolly said he occasionally wonders how different his life would be if his father had boarded another plane. At the same time, he said, "That experience is part of who I am. Life goes on, and you have to go on with it."

John Sherbak, 47, had a hard time moving on. The former Hopewell volunteer firefighter was among the first to arrive at the crash site after the plane went down. After nearly four days on the hill, Sherbak had enough.

"In some ways, I feel guilty about it," said Sherbak, now of Hampton, "but I reached my limit."

Several months after the crash, Sherbak went to Sewickley Cemetery to visit a memorial for the victims. He threw a coat over his Hopewell Township Volunteer Fire Department shirt because he didn't want to draw attention to being a firefighter. What he didn't realize: the letters "HTVFD" were on the back of his coat.

Two women widowed by the crash were at the memorial. One of them grabbed his arm after seeing his coat. "She said, 'I've been waiting for months to thank someone who was there.' Then she hugged me. That first hug meant so much to me," Sherbak said.

Sherbak quickly struck up a close friendship with the other woman at the cemetery, Denise Varisco, who lost her husband, Bernard, in the crash and was left to raise a 2-year-old son and 6-month-old daughter.

About two years later, Sherbak and Varisco started dating. They were married in 2000.

"We gave each other strength. There are reminders everywhere — Denise, the kids, Bernie's pictures in the house," Sherbak said. "But I thank God every day for what I have."