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| Thu, 02-05-2004 - 6:34pm |
High Calling: The Courageous Life and Faith of Space Shuttle Columbia Commander Rick Husband
by: Evelyn Husband
In her memoir, High Calling: The Courageous Life and Faith of Space Shuttle Columbia Commander Rick Husband, Evelyn Husband reflects on:
The moment she realized Columbia and her husband of 20 years were gone… (pp. 8-9)
The reality of what was happening was setting in at Mission Control, but at Kennedy Space Center, as we anticipated the landing, I had no idea what was going on.
In Amarillo, my parents were quiet as they watched the images on their TV screen. Several bright streaks filled the sky, and when Daddy saw them, his heart sank. CNN was broadcasting that contact had been lost with the shuttle. He turned off the TV.
“Something was wrong with the camera,” Mother said, desperately wanting to believe that what they were seeing was a technical error. “The camera was out of focus.”
Daddy felt nauseous. “It’s not the camera, Jean,” he said. “Something’s terribly wrong.”
Within moments, the doorbell rang. Mother answered it.
“I’m so sorry, Jean,” a friend said, grabbing Mother’s hand. It was then that Mother knew the camera wasn’t out of focus.
When the shuttle was eleven minutes from landing, Matthew, Laura, and I stood for a picture in front of the huge landing clock at Kennedy Space Center, and our faces revealed how excited we were. As far as we knew, Rick was just minutes away. I wasn’t aware at the time but found out later that some of the other crew spouses had started listening to communication between Mission Control and the shuttle and knew something was wrong. Steve Lindsey realized it when he heard the dialogue at Mission Control and the attempts to repeatedly contact Rick.
“About the third time I heard them call, the hair started standing up on the back of my neck,” Steve says. “It’s common to lose transmission for ten seconds or twenty seconds, but not a long time. It was a terrible, sickening feeling.”
Although Steve had just told me minutes earlier which direction I should be looking for the shuttle, I had forgotten. When the shuttle was still about a minute out, I asked again: “I’m sorry, Steve. Which direction did you say I should be looking?”
He was listening to Mission Control and held up his finger as if to say, “Wait a minute.” Then I saw the color drain out of his face. He couldn’t answer.
I saw movement in the corner of my eye and slowly looked to my left. NASA executives and personnel were pouring out of their bleacher seats with cell phones to their ears. My stomach dropped. I could feel my heart beating, but my body was numb. Something was wrong. Oh, God, what’s happening?
From that moment on, everything moved in slow motion, even my brain. I couldn’t think straight. I looked for Laura and Matthew and saw they were still playing with the other crew children. I looked to my right and saw Keith standing beside Jane. His face was ashen. He had been listening to the communication between Mission Control and the shuttle and had already suspected that something terrible had happened. I moved toward him, but it was difficult to lift my legs; my body wasn’t working.
“Keith, I think something’s wrong,” I whispered.
“I think there is too,” he said.
I tried to process what was taking place. There was no way this was happening. This was Rick’s dream. It couldn’t be ending. Not today. Not like this.
Returning home to Houston without Rick… (p. 179)
I walked through the front door and saw all the paper chains decorating our wall that Matthew and Laura had made for Rick’s return but he would never see any of it. There would be no sweet homecoming with tiny arms wrapping around Rick’s waist to welcome Daddy home. Stepping into that house was the most painful thing I’ve ever done. On the mantel I had left a huge picture of the crew, but I couldn’t look at it. It took me weeks to grieve for the others. My brain could handle only so much at a time, and it was consumed with the loss of Rick. I couldn’t grieve for all seven of them at once. I looked at my watch: it was 3:30 CST. I thought, Rick’s been dead only seven hours, but it feels like seven years.
I took my things to the bedroom I had shared with Rick for the last seven years, and I doubled over, sobbing and wailing. Sounds were coming out of me that I didn’t recognize. It was the first time I had been alone, and I felt I could grieve freely.
“I can��t believe this is happening,” I said again and again. “Rick, I can’t believe that you’re gone.” Before Rick had gone into quarantine, he took a bar of soap and wrote, “I love you, Evey! Love, Rick,” on my makeup mirror. Every time I looked at that mirror, I wailed. Everything in that bedroom reminded me of Rick, and I sobbed at every turn, cries that were deep into my gut, cries I couldn’t even distinguish as human; they sounded like something an animal would make. “You’re not gone,” I moaned. “Rick, you can’t be gone.”
Rick’s faith… (p. 197)
Prior to launch, each astronaut fills out papers containing information for the Astronaut Office to keep on file in the event of an accident. The packet includes financial and personal information such as loans, bank accounts, personal and spiritual advisers, extended family, and so on. It’s also where the crew member designates CACOs. (On Rick’s sheet Steve Lindsey is named as the primary CACO, with Mike Anderson listed as the alternate. However, since Mike was on the flight with Rick, Steve arranged with administrators for Scott Parazynski to assist him as backup CACO.) On the last page of this packet titled “Special Instructions for Funeral Services,” there’s a section called “Other Special Instructions.” In this section, Rick wrote,
Tell ’em about Jesus!—That He is real to me. Proverbs 3:5–6
Colossians 3:23
That’s what Rick wanted done in case something happened: he wanted people to know about Jesus and His love. Rick’s request has now become my life’s mission statement, and I communicate that every chance I get.
Her Relationship with God since the tragedy… (p. 232)
I have lost all sense of politeness with God. I have cried and wept and yelled at Him, but I know He’s big enough to handle it. He has drawn me closer than I ever thought possible. He has held me close to His heart and let me cry for as long as I’ve needed. My sweet sister- in-law, Kathy, told me on February 1 that God would walk me step-by-step through this sorrow, and He has. Time and again, what the Lord said in the Bible has proved faithful and true.
Isaiah 53:3 tells us that Jesus was a man of sorrows and acquainted with our grief. He really does know how I feel. Psalm 147:3 declares that God “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Revelation 21:4 says, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain” in heaven. Matthew 11:28 states, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Psalm 56:8 reminds us that God keeps track of our sorrows. He has collected all my tears in a bottle and has recorded each one in a book. Verse after verse reflects God’s love for me and helps carry me through painfully dark days.
Although I am lonely for Rick and will be for the rest of my life, I am never alone; I will never be alone. God is always with me. I know that I will see Rick again in heaven, but I still mourn for him and miss him terribly. There are days that my heart feels it’s literally going to break because the pain is so deep, but because I have put my hope in Christ, I am assured of the eternal hope of heaven.

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