| Touri Bolourchi,
a 69-year-old retired nurse born in Tehran and educated in England,
moved to the United States with her daughters in 1979, right after the
Islamic revolution. Her husband, Akbar Bolourchi, followed two years later, moving his
internal medicine practice to Beverly Hills from Tehran. The two met
when she was head nurse at Women's Hospital in Tehran and he was a
practicing physician there. Besides being an accomplished nurse, she spoke six languages: Turkish,
English, French, Italian, Arabic and Farsi. Touri Bolourchi boarded the flight in Boston after a two-week visit
with a daughter, Roya Turan, and two grandsons. "She said, 'I'll
see you when you come to L.A,' " Turan said. "She had that
beautiful expression on her face, with her beautiful smile."
She hadn't flown to Boston for two years. "She was so afraid of
airplanes," her husband said. Years ago, he explained, two of her
cousins died in commercial airline crashes in Europe and Africa.
She is survived by her husband, her daughters Neda Bolourchi and Roya
Turan, and grandsons Bobby Turan, 15, and Kayvon Turan, 10, of Boston.
Excerpt from LA Times article: Sept. 13, 2001
...................Roya Turan's mother, Touri Bolourchi, was on that
same flight--but hadn't originally planned it that way. The
69-year-old retired nurse was to have flown home to Los Angeles right
after Labor Day, with her husband, and got here alive. But instead,
she decided to stay a few extra days in Boston to keep her daughter
company. It now torments Turan. It fills her with a guilt that may haunt her
for years. "She blames herself a lot," said a cousin, Javad Bolourchi,
who lives in San Marino. "She is all alone with the two children,
and she can't come here because there are no flights. We just keep
calling her and giving her support over the phone." On Wednesday, at the Bolourchis' condominium in Brentwood, mourners
clad in black sat in the living room, hugging, crying and talking in
hushed tones. As is Iranian custom, relatives served black Iranian
tea, dates and halva, a sweet made with fried wheat flour, rose water
and saffron. People hugged Touri's husband, Akbar Bolourchi, and
daughter Neda, delivering traditional kisses on the cheek. "This is the biggest tragedy of my life. I believe I'm still in a
sleep," Bolourchi said. "I feel that one day she will come
back. I'm still looking at my watch to see if it's 11:30, if it is
time for me to go to the airport and pick her up. "I slept a few hours last night in hopes I would see her in my
dreams," he said, tears trickling silently down his cheeks. He
shook his head. "So far, I see nothing.".....................
view full article: Lurched
Into Grief, Families Are Left Only With Questions (09/13/01)
Copyright 2001
Los Angeles Times
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