Choosing a Positive Direction

In case you didn't know,  yesterday was the 25th Anniversary of the Challenger disaster.  I remember seeing the space shuttle disintegrate before the world's eyes as a first year university student, getting ready for my first class of the day while watching the news on my little T.V. in my dorm room.  I've always been a news junky and I was facinated by the idea of Christa McAuliffe, a teacher, going into space, and that was long before I became a teacher.  Watching it explode in front of the whole world is something I'll never forget.  My first thought was to worry about the families of the astronauts:  their spouses, children, parents, siblings and friends who were going to have to figure out how to live in the shadow of the tragedy but even more significantly, how to live without their loved one.  I remember reading a lot about the disaster in the days and weeks and years that followed, always searching for information about how the families were doing.  Little did I know I'd be living my own version of personal tragedy 23 years later.

Yesterday morning I was watching a news report commemorating the disaster.  Of course I automatically wondered how the families were doing now, a whole quarter of a century later.  But this time my concern and curiousity had a much more personal angle.  How were the kids,  25 years after their parents had died?  How were their spouses?  Did they ever find happiness again?  Were they still feeling grief, a quarter of a century later?    There was no mention of  family in the news report I saw, but I couldn't help but wonder and yearn for some positive information.

A young teacher was interviewed in the news report I saw.  She was a student in Christa McAuliffe's school 25 years ago.  This young lady became a teacher because of Christa McAuliffe, who was obviously a major positive influence in this young woman's life.  During the interview, the young teacher said something very interesting (and I'm paraphrasing here).  She said that more positive has come out of the tragedy than would have existed had the Challenger never blown up.  She said she felt very strongly about that.  She referred to many of the things mentioned in this short Wikipedia article   ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christa_McAuliffe  )  as being positive things that emerged from the ashes of the tragedy.

I was shocked.  More positive things happened in the world because a space shuttle blew up and seven people died?  Really?  Before March 20, 2009 I would have bought into that idea.  But now I find myself really questioning the notion.  I wanted to call her up and tell her not to be so dismissing, so quick with her conclusions.   People lost husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, children, sisters, brothers, friends.   I wonder if al those family members would come to the same conclusion, that it all worked out for the better (now I'm really paraphrasing, but to me that was implied).   I'm curious whether people more directly affected would say the same, now that they have the benefit of hindsight,  being 25 years away from the agony of the start of the journey.  

Obviously we will never know what life would have been like had our loves lived.  But it breaks my already shattered heart to think that my kids or I may "turn out better" because Austin died.  We had a wonderful life and loving family.  It is unimaginable to me that he had to die for the boys and I to reach our full potential.  That seems completely wrong and disloyal and it made me angry just contemplating the idea.

But I contemplated the idea all day yesterday, to get to the root of what I really feel.  And I've come to the conclusion that maybe we'll reach our potential in spite of Austin dying.  Maybe the tragedy of surviving his death will indeed be his greatest gift to us that he never intended to give. 

Adversity, tragedy and deep, deep sorrow have to change who we are, for good or bad.  Maybe when a person survives a life altering tragedy, whether it be public or private or somewhere in between,  it is inevitable that the rest of our life is magnified in some way.  And it's our decision to direct that life in a positive or negative direction.  We must decide which road we'll take.  Will we honour our lost love's life and their love for us by choosing positive, which will become a bigger positive energy force than would have existed if we'd just gotten to live our happy little lives in oblivion to the pain we're all feeling now?  Will we choose to create the positive force, or will we choose to fall into the darkness and abyss and surround ourselves in negativity, creating a negative energy force?   I'm thinking that either way the reality is bigger than it would have been if we were still living with our heads in the sand, not realizing what was about to knock us over and take our breath away.  Bigger is inevitable.  We choose which direction it takes.

Choosing the positive doesn't mean we don't grieve, miss them with every breath and cry every/most days.  It doesn't mean that we don't crawl into our empty beds with sadness every night, and yearn for them to be beside us.  It doesn't mean that we don't talk about them constantly to try and keep their memory and character alive for our children.   It does mean that after we fall in the pit of grief and stay there for as long as we need to, we pick outselves up, dust ourselves off and attempt to move a step forward.  Sometimes we move backwards for a while, but inevitably we are able to move forward again, with small little steps forward and some big steps back.  And maybe, if we're given the gift of hindsight  25 years into this journey, we'll be able to come to the same conclusion as the young teacher.    It's not that we'd choose to lose them if we had the choice, but in light of the fact that we were powerless over that reality, we can reclaim our power in our lives by choosing the positive direction, in whatever form that looks like for each of us.

It reminds me of a comment I heard this week from a dear older lady who really cares about how the boys and I are doing.  When she asked me a few days ago how we were doing, and I replied, as always, "fine", she said that maybe the boys will be stronger men than they would have been if Austin hadn't died, that this experience will turn them into more than they would have been without tragedy.  I wanted to yell "no!" and run away.  But I just smiled and went on my way.  And today  I'm realizing that maybe she's right. We won't waste Austin's last, unexpected gift to us.  Our future is now magnified by the experience of loss.  And we're going to choose the positive road, perhaps the one less travelled.  It hasn't been easy, isn't easy and I know it won't be easy.  But we're taking Austin's love and character with us to guide us when we're feeling lost.