  Yesterday was the anniversary of the tragic upper atmosphere destruction of the Space Shuttle Columbia. Throughout the week, and especially yesterday, many memorials were held. I found myself taking the most away from an unlikely one, in which an NFL announcer interviewed the families for a memorial in the pre-game show. The families' interviews helped me understand the conflicting emotions I had this past week when my son was injured and my husband was away on work, and yet I wanted him to be here immediately. As my father-in-law put it, "if he wants to go to Mars, then he should be able to handle two weeks in California.
" But watching the families, I realized that space families hold together closer because they know they won't always be able to. The fathers and mothers that died onboard Columbia had been extraordinarily close to their children, they'd been there for everything , as long as they were on the same planet. As it turned out, we didn't have to make the difficult decision of whether or not John should abandon his two-week training and come home for Aidan's mouth injury because John's bosses agreed flying him home for the weekend was cheaper than paying for the training all over again. I felt so proud of his division for standing behind their family first promises I've heard at every pic-nic and party.
If John ever gets that amazing opportunity to go to space, we'll be lucky that the kids won't be young anymore. For now, they are young, and I'm confident that we're on the right path being there for every event, accident, and memory possible. We're following a long tradition of space families making the most of life here on Earth. 
