Orem • The five caskets were arranged in a neat line at the front of the room.

Those who came to mourn couldn’t help but cry at the stark sight. As they held onto crumpled tissues, they traded whispers. “This is so hard,” they said. “Why did this have to happen?”

The deaths of a mother, father and three children who were swept away in a flash flood in south central Utah have ricocheted across the state — a nod to the family’s far-reaching touch — with some traveling hundreds of miles and many hours to attend the funeral Wednesday.

Nearly every folding chair at the front of the massive event center on Utah Valley University’s campus was filled, with more than 400 people coming to pay their respects. That included firefighters from departments across the state, wearing their dress uniforms to honor 44-year-old Spencer Long, the father and Provo fire captain who died.

Fire crews also lined the pathway into the center with flags and suspended one large American flag between two fire engines.

Long had been on a hiking trip with his wife, Katrina Long, also 44, and their sons, 13-year-old Thayne Long and 12-year-old Gage Long, as well as Katrina’s son from a previous marriage, 20-year-old Reid Vernon. They were all killed July 17 when heavy rain fell in a slot canyon they had been exploring outside the small town of Bicknell in Wayne County.

Katrina Long was a former city council member and one-time temporary acting mayor of the town of Mona in Juab County. She was also the co-founder of Summit Medical Spa in Spanish Fork in Utah County.

Her daughter Lydia Vernon is Katrina Long’s sole surviving child and the sister of Reid Vernon. She was not with the family on the hiking trip. During the funeral, she said a soft and short prayer, saying she’ll hold tight to the memories she has as she tries to overcome her grief.

She called the tragedy “hard to understand” and prayed that her mom, stepdad and brothers might know that she misses them. A GoFundMe donation page has been set up to support her in the aftermath.

Susan Gubler, Katrina Long’s mom, choked up as she tried to answer similar questions many in the audience had been grappling with.

“How does a mother and grandmother make it through this?” she asked from the podium. “How could God take almost an entire family?”

Since police called with the news of the flash flood — a horror she said no parent should ever have to face — Gubler said she’s been consumed by her own “whirlpool of grief.”

But she asked the audience to try, like she will, to respond to the tragedy instead with a “tsunami of good will” in honor of her daughter, son-in-law and three grandsons. They were each kind and generous, and that’s how those who loved them, she said, can carry forward their impact.

She then sang the Christian hymn “His Hands” as several in the audience joined her, picking up in places where her voice trailed off or shook.

Other family members took turns sharing stories of each of the loved ones they had lost, adding smiles and laughs to the mix of tears. While they spoke, photos of the family flashed on the screen— showing them hugging each other, eating ice cream, fishing and blowing out birthday candles. A photo of each also stood by their caskets.

Spencer Long, a fire captain who loved his family

Provo Battalion Chief Jeremy Moon recalled Spencer Long’s belief that anything could be accomplished — as long as it was accompanied by a cherry Pepsi and a Snickers candy bar.

That included Long unknowingly signing up to be part of the Provo fire team that was running a 200-mile relay. It wasn’t until Long was in the van, driving up to the race, that he learned what they were actually doing. He just had a can-do attitude, Moon said with a laugh, and didn’t ask many questions.

But he did make them pull over at a gas station so he could get his trademark snack as fuel, Moon joked.

Long also loved Panda Express. He was supposed to help cook for the team during his shifts at the station, Moon said, but he had no talent for it and often burned noodles. So they would order his favorite food, which Long didn’t mind eating for four meals straight, Moon added.

Moon also recounted when the fire department responded to a call, where Long was helping after a dog was hit by a car. The dog was injured and wouldn’t move from where it was lying in the road. The owner had tried to comfort the dog, but the dog was in pain and defensive and bit him, leaving the owner needing stitches, Moon said.

Long was treating that man when another family member went to the dog and also got bit and needed stitches. Long then started helping that person when a third member did the same and got bit.

Moon said Long started grumbling about how many reports he was going to have to write up, so he shouted: “Stay away from the bleeping dog.” The other crew members nearby, Moon said, couldn’t help but laugh a little.

Long worked as a wildland firefighter before transitioning to Provo Fire 17 years ago, the last two as a captain. It was a job he cherished. He was a member of Utah Task Force One, a federal search and rescue team, and a member of Provo Fire’s mountain rescue team. And he had a binder of certifications at least six inches thick, Moon said.

He adored his wife, Katrina, whom he married in May 2010, and spoke about her often. “He was Katrina’s guinea pig whenever the spa got a new laser or treatment,” Moon said. “Then he’d love to come into the station to tell us about it.”

Casey Long, one of Long’s three brothers, said Long loved his kids and considered his stepkids his own. After Reid Vernon had a growth spurt, Casey Long said his brother taped hockey pucks to the bottom of his shoes so he would still be the same height as his son.

Casey said his brother was also overjoyed when his boys became better at hockey than he was. And he loved teaching them to be as mischievous as he was as a kid, Casey said; that included recording over the VHS tape of Casey’s kindergarten recital with videos of him and his friends jumping into trash cans.

“I’m sure at the time my mother was furious,” Casey said. “But now it’s a memory we look back on, and it’s very fitting.”

Spencer Long and his brothers, Weston, Casey and Drew, grew up on a cattle farm in Vernal. Long didn’t care much for taking care of the cows or changing the sprinklers, Casey said, but he did love hunting and always carried a rifle or shotgun over his shoulder.

Their father’s one rule, Casey said, was that if you killed it, you had to eat it. So Spencer would prepare prairie dogs, quail and pheasants to eat — which were about as tasty as burned noodles, Casey joked.

Long continued to carry out that rule as a teen, during a proselytizing mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He served in Argentina and one day cooked up a critter for his companions that he had accidentally killed when he hit it with a rock.

Long also loved motorcycles, the outdoors, making elaborate Halloween costumes and doing anything to embarrass his family or friends, including wearing Speedos and singing loudly to one of his favorite songs, “Pink Pony Club” by Chappell Roan.

Katrina Long, a spa co-founder and mother who wore many hats

Katrina Long has a catchphrase that used to make her colleagues both excited and slightly worried. “So I did a thing,” Long would start off saying.

Every time she did, Samantha Butler said, she knew her business partner — whom she affectionately referred to as her “work wife” — was working on something brilliant, she said with a laugh.

In 2018, Butler and Long co-founded Summit Medical Spa. The two wanted to change the industry from the inside out, by treating their workers better with paid leave and retirement benefits. Many of those employees came to the funeral Wednesday and nodded as Butler spoke.

Butler said she and Long couldn’t have been more different. Long was classy and wore nice clothes, Butler said. Meanwhile, Butler said she was game to advertise their spa treatments in a hot dog costume.

“But somehow that difference became the greatest strength,” Butler said.

Butler also said Long “wore more hats than most people could imagine.” She was a mother and wife, a friend and mentor, a business owner and one-time acting mayor. She served the small town of Mona during that stint, and her time on the council from 2016 to 2020, with integrity, wisdom and love, Butler said, adding that Long helped shepherd in a new basketball court and community center.

Travis Gubler, Long’s youngest brother, said she was also the protector of her three siblings. She helped her two brothers, Travis and Casey, not burn off their eyebrows “with the pyrotechnics we had” as they played like they were in the military. The siblings grew up in a military family and moved around the world.

To her sister, Trisha Perkins, Long was a role model. The two did gymnastics together and would play for hours on the trampoline in their backyard. But make no mistake, Gubler said with a laugh, Long was the oldest and always in charge.

She started college early, at age 16, at Fayetteville State University in North Carolina, and later moved to Hawaii on her own to study massage. She wanted to help people heal and worked in several chiropractic offices.

Long then completed a Goldman Sachs program in Utah aimed at supporting business owners, before she started the spa with Butler.

Gubler said Long loved her kids and husband dearly, relished taking risks and was fearless when it came to adventures. She also loved quiet moments gardening and playing the piano and organ at her church.

“It seems impossible to do justice to the woman that she was,” Gubler added.

Reid Vernon, a determined and caring brother

Reid Vernon was strong and determined, said his dad, Joshua Vernon, even from an early age.

Joshua recalled one night bargaining with his son to eat his mashed potatoes, and was outwitted by a 4-year-old who successfully avoided it until bedtime.

“This was just a glimpse of Reid’s strong will,” Joshua said.

Those traits carried with Reid as he grew up, the father said. He loved being competitive. On Easter, the family has a tradition of tying yarn to a member’s candy-filled basket, winding it around the house and then to attaching it to the person’s finger or toe. They’d have to wake up in the morning and unravel it to get to their goodies.

Reid took over doing his dad’s basket and wound the yarn in crazy paths, through locked cars, out second-floor windows and around ceiling fans, his dad said with a smile. This year, Reid put Joshua’s basket on the roof of the house next to the chimney.

He also loved taking care of his older sister and five younger brothers (including three from Joshua’s second marriage).

On a recent hiking trip Joshua planned with Reid and his little brother Dean, Joshua recalled, it started to storm with hail like golf balls. When they decided to ditch their expedition and return to the car halfway down the canyon, Reid noticed Dean shivering and grabbed his brother’s backpack and carried it the two hours back.

Reid recently returned home from an LDS mission in Colombia, where he loved serving the people, his dad said. He also enjoyed snowboarding and pumpkin muffins. And he was studying accounting at UVU.

His son’s catchphrase was “not gonna lie,” Joshua recalled, and Reid never did — he was incredibly honest.

Borrowing that phrase at the funeral, Joshua said, “Not gonna lie, this eulogy … has been the most difficult words I’ve ever written.”

Thayne Long, a young entrepreneur and hockey goalie

Family friend and neighbor Cole Quarnberg described Thayne Long as a perfect mix of his parents. Like his dad, he loved playing hockey as a goalie. And like his mom, he had recently started his own business detailing cars.

Quarnberg joked that when Long first started, he let him detail his truck. It wasn’t perfect, but Quarnberg didn’t say anything. A few months later, Long came back and asked Quarnberg if he could do it again.

“I didn’t do a good enough job,” Quarnberg remembers Long saying. “I want to make sure it looks the best.”

It was representative of how passionate and caring Long was, Quarnberg said. And the second time, it was immaculate.

Long also loved the outdoors. He set up a trail camera that once caught a view of a mountain lion — and he excitedly showed the footage to anyone in the neighborhood who would watch.

He was passionate about camping, and once led a freezing Dec. 31 trip with his friends on Mount Nebo in Utah County so they could be the first kids who woke up there in the new year.

Quarnberg’s son, Wyatt, was close friends with Long and now doesn’t want to go fishing without him. Several kids at the funeral wore hockey jerseys in honor of Thayne and Gage Long.

Gage Long, the youngest son who loved math and wildflowers

Everyone who knew Gage Long referred to him lovingly as “little dude.”

“Gage had a lot of spirit packed into his little body,” said his local LDS Church leader, Jeff Walker.

Long, Walker said, used to make jokes with a serious face, so you couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. And he was an absolute whiz at math.

When Long was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes in 2023, he used to be able to calculate the carbs and insulin doses himself. And he never wanted to leave class to take his medication, Walker said, because he “didn’t want to miss the good stuff.”

While his family loved fishing and hunting in the outdoors, Long enjoyed going along to look for wildflower and berry species. He had recently purchased field guides for both. He also would paddle around the lake in a boat he had constructed out of a sled and pool noodles.

Long played cello in his school orchestra, and the instrument outsized him. He taught himself Morse code. And he loved challenging anyone to a trivia contest.

He was excited to play hockey, like his brothers and dad. Walker joked that Long would pass out pucks he signed, telling people to hold onto them for when he became a famous goalie and they were worth money.

On Wednesday, his was the last casket to be loaded into one of the five white hearses waiting outside the event center. Family and friends watched and wiped away more tears as cars pulled onto the road in another neat row of five to drive to the cemetery.