The first anniversary of the Minnesota Collapse has passed with vigils, tears and politics.

Not much has changed since Aug. 1, 2007.

Gov. Tim Pawlenty, three minutes late for Friday's bridge collapse prayer service at the Basilica, delivered a two-and-a-half minute reflection centered on the Bible's promise of "the peace that passeth all understanding."

He twice repeated the phrase, which comes from St. Paul's letter to the Philippians, telling them to "not be anxious about anything" because they are protected by the peace of God, which is beyond human comprehension.

Comforting words, from an Apostle. Not so much from the head of a crumbling state.

A year later, what remains beyond the understanding of many Minnesotans is how a bridge could be so neglected and the public so unprotected. Pawlenty, who survived the collapse to become a fair-haired boy in the GOP vice presidential sweepstakes, has moved on: He was in Ames, Iowa, on Saturday, helping the John McCain campaign open a "Victory '08" office.

Many of his constituents have not moved so fast.

One is Betsy Sathers, who still has her husband's 30th birthday cake, lovingly saved in her freezer.

Sathers skipped Friday's prayer service. Instead, she went at dawn to Lakewood Cemetery in Minneapolis to visit the grave of her husband, Scott, who was on his way home when the bridge fell. Betsy, who was planning a surprise birthday party for Scott, was at home, in Blaine, wondering why he was late.

His 30th birthday was three days later, Aug. 4, 2007. But he was missing, lost in the wreckage while friends and family spent frantic days and nights searching hospitals and even the morgue, fearing the worst and hoping he might have survived, trapped in a pocket of air.

Betsy kept the cake, ready. But 18 days after the collapse, Scott's body was found. They brought her his wedding ring, which she wears on a chain around her neck.

It has been a long year, a day-by-day journey through grief and loss, capped off with an intense burst of public attention on the anniversary, when anyone who lost a loved one was forced to undergo a compressed cycle of interest in the tragedy, with no conclusions -- or closure -- in sight.

'Every day is hard'

"I keep expecting a huge breakdown, because everyone said the anniversary would be hard, but every day is hard," says Betsy. "Every morning I brush my teeth and put my toothbrush back next to his toothbrush. I still sleep with the shirt he was wearing the night before, when we celebrated my dad's birthday. That was the last night we were together: July 31, 2007. I try not to be bitter, and I feel blessed I was able to find the love of my life and I'm glad I was able to be his wife for 10 months. But it's very hard. Every single day."

The Sathers, who dated for a couple of years and were friends before that, were engaged a year and married Sept. 30, 2006. Betsy observed their first anniversary without Scott, and during the holidays, she went without a Christmas tree: Scott had proposed by telling her to check out the "new ornament" he put up: Her ring.

Well-meaning people ask if she has begun dating, but she "can't even comprehend that." Some ask if she will be able to drive across the new bridge. She tells them she has trouble crossing any bridge. Every bridge. Others ask if she and Scott had children. They were planning to have a family, but hadn't begun. "That's good," people say. "Is it?" she asks, numbly.

She wouldn't want any child to lose a parent, but wonders whether her child would have had Scott's blue eyes. And wonders how to keep his memory alive.

Big issues.

And most of them passeth all understanding.

At the cemetery Friday, she tried to explain her feelings to Scott:

"I miss you so much."

'We had so many plans'

"I know Scott is in heaven and he has all the cake he wants," she says, laughing at the idea. "But I don't know what to do with the cake I have for him. He was my coach and my encourager and we had this whole road map laid out for our lives, all these hopes and dreams. One year ago, when we woke up on Aug. 1, we had so many plans. Now it's all changed, and I just want to be sure it wasn't all in vain, to lose him."

Betsy isn't mad at anyone, and says anyone can make a mistake. But there are supposed to be systems in place to protect the public, processes to ensure safety. She remembers a minor squabble with Scott, a week before the bridge fell, when they were watching TV. She wanted "Sex and the City." He was engrossed in a program about bridge disasters.

"I thought it was so boring. Now, I just want [the reasons] for the collapse found out, and remembered, so that the things that need to be done are taken care of, and the errors are fixed. There needs to be funding to make our bridges and our roads safe. I wouldn't want to be the one to balance the budget, but bridges should not fall down."

She knows that some people have moved on, and that the news media move on to other stories. But the tragedy in Minneapolis will never be old news for her.

"It may be history to them. But people learn some of their biggest lessons from history. We need to learn ours."

Nick Coleman • 612-673-4400 ncoleman@startribune.com