As the one-year mark since the tragic Tusky Valley band crash is here, the Mosley family remains in mourning, holding on to memories of their beloved son, Wyatt. The loss feels both fleeting and never-ending, as Sondra Mosley, Wyatt’s mother, shares in her words of grief, strength, and love for her son, John Wyatt Mosley, one of the students lost in the accident.
“It doesn’t feel like a year,” Sondra reflects, her words heavy with emotion. “The year went by so fast but also slowly. I know it’s just been too long since I’ve seen my John Wyatt. I can physically and mentally feel a piece of my heart missing. And I will always love and miss Wyatt for the rest of my life.”
The memories of that November morning remain vivid. Wyatt, along with his brother Gunnar, woke up early, preparing to leave for their final marching performance at a school board conference in Columbus. The usual morning chaos filled the house as Sondra helped the boys search for Wyatt’s drumline jacket and warm-up pants. They hadn’t been expecting another performance, so the jacket had been packed away. Sondra remembers almost telling the boys they didn’t have to go. “They didn’t want to. Gunnar hadn’t been feeling good, but he was ready to go. He was excited. Wyatt was kind of blah. ‘Let’s get this over with.’”
Before they left, Sondra gave each son a hug. She watched Gunnar walk out to the car, and then turned to Wyatt, who lingered a bit longer in the laundry room. She hugged him tightly and told him she loved him, expecting to see him later that day.
But later that morning, Sondra received a life-altering message: the charter bus carrying Wyatt, Gunnar, and other Tusky Valley band members had been in a serious accident. When she saw the first image of the crash, her heart sank. She reached out, texting her sons, but got no response. A stranger’s phone call brought some relief when Gunnar reassured her he was okay. But Wyatt was still missing.
Moments later, the devastating news arrived: Wyatt was gone. Sondra was alone, in shock, speaking to her husband, Chris, on the phone. When the words finally sank in, she screamed in grief. Holli, Sondra’s sister in-law, arrived to support her, while Zander, another family member, went to retrieve Wyatt’s younger sister, Ahna, from school. In an attempt to fight against the tragedy, Sondra called hospitals and sheriff’s offices, hoping for a mistake, clinging to a sliver of hope that somehow, Wyatt might still be alive. But reality set in when they reached the hospital.
Once Gunnar was released, Sondra broke the heartbreaking news to her family. “My heart was and still is shattered,” she shares. “It was the longest 2-hour drive there and the longest 2-hour drive back. I rocked in the seat the whole time there and back. I cried so many tears and I still do every day. I kept saying, ‘my baby.’ Life will never be the same.”
In addition to the passing of 18-year-old Wyatt, five others died in the crash. Jeffery “J.D.” Worrell, 18; and Katelyn Owens, 15—and three adults—a teacher, Dave Kennat, 56; and parent chaperones, Kristy Gaynor, 39, and Shannon Wigfield, 45. Additionally, 20 students sustained injuries; 18 were treated and released, while two were hospitalized with serious but non-life-threatening injuries.
Wyatt was an exceptional young man, full of wit, intelligence, and talent. He had a natural gift for music, playing the quintz with energy and ease, even though he initially considered not joining the band. He loved swinging the drumsticks and immersing himself in the rhythm, making his family proud every step of the way. He also loved singing, and his parents were equally proud of his musical talent. Supper times at the Mosley home often turned into joyous occasions filled with laughter and Wyatt’s playful teasing.
“Wyatt loved to aggravate me,” Sondra laughs softly, remembering her son’s mischievous nature. “But he was also very loving. Today is a hard day, but every day is a hard day for us. Love you, Wyatt. I miss you so much.”
The loss of Wyatt, along with the others in the crash, has left an indelible mark on the Tuscarawas Valley community. The families affected continue to lean on each other, finding comfort in shared memories and communal support. Wyatt’s life was a beacon of joy, humor, and love, traits that will forever remain in the hearts of those who loved him.
As Sondra and her family move forward, they honor Wyatt’s memory each day, holding onto the music, laughter, and love that he brought into their lives.
