A Kick To The Gut
You don't need me to tell you that the Space Shuttle Columbia broke up on reentry today.
I couldn't watch more than a few minutes of the coverage this morning for a couple reasons - one, Cam and Claire were starting to ask a lot of questions I didn't want to answer, and two, it made my stomach hurt.
Just sitting here composing this entry is giving me chills.
I remember Columbia's first launch quite vividly. It had been pushed back a few days, which worked out for me - it ended up launching on a Sunday morning. I was up early on Sundays anyway - to deliver my papers - so I got up a little earlier than usual and watched it on the 13" TV in my bedroom while I rolled newspapers. I kept the sound turned down so low I could barely hear it to avoid waking everybody up. I was totally entranced.
Today I feel like the wonder of that morning has been ripped screaming from me - for the second time. It fills me with an incredible sadness.
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Well, this was another hard topic to discuss with Jacob (now eight years old) -- I did it in small bits over several days, answering his questions without giving more details than what he asked. The Sunday front page of the LA Times was helpful with its pictures of the astronauts and their stories. Today's edition had more photos of the shuttle and some of the tiles. I think since Jacob already lived through 9/11, explaining the pain of this accident was not as difficult. I am very thankful they (the media) did not have extensive footage of the explosion since the live images are much more damaging. Good luck with the twins!
I couldn't watch it either and put a moratorium on tv news. The repetition of this kind of news just gnaws on the body, mind and soul.
I liked the poetry Brad. You can use it for me if you like.
We have to face our own life and passing to comfortably explain it to children. At the early point, we don't want to frighten them but need to help them understand that death is a natural part of life.
This is tough to deal with. I had a heck of a time with Anne when she was about 3-4. The cemetery looked to her like a great place for a picnic - nice stones for tables, large trees, grass, flowers. I finally broke down and told her exactly what it was. Then came the questions. . . over and over. Finally, she was satisfied and nothing more was said.
Grief is what we experience when something ends that we care about. The nation has lost some of it's finest humans and it is right that we grieve for them, their spirit, the loss of their presence, abilities and attitudes. The accident was sudden, final. irreversible. It is also right that we honor them.
I'll bet you can find some books at the library that deal with this that will help.
Interesting what our children teach us isn't it?
Brad - Are you sure it was a Sunday?
Mom,
I am sure it was a Sunday. I was pretty sure in the first place, but in the spirit of fact-checking I did some research. April 12, 1981 was indeed a Sunday.
The launch was at 7:00 AM EST, or 6:00 AM in "Big W Country" - a great time to sit and roll newspapers.
As far as the kids, I told them that the space shuttle had broken up in space. Cameron, ever the pragmatic one, immediately said "But I want to see a whole one!"
Last night when I got home Claire asked me if I had any bad news today, with a worried look on her face. I assured her that I didn't have any more bad news for her.