Gabby_ A Story of Courage and Hope - Alison Hanson [120]
Luckily, there were no new mission delays, and we flew to Cape Canaveral on May 12. Gabby came three days later. The traditional family events this time were very limited since we’d already been through them before the scrubbed launch. But Gabby and I did meet again at the beach house, where we exchanged our wedding rings. Mine was too big for her to wear, so she decided to put it on a chain. “I’ll see you in two weeks,” I told her. “Call if you need me.”
On the morning of the launch, a team of firemen helped carry Gabby, in her litter chair, up an external flight of stairs to the roof of NASA’s Launch Control Center. She was joined there by Gloria, Claudia, Claire, Pia, my brother, Scott, and Piers Sellers. My crew members’ wives and kids were there, too. It was a nice place to privately view the launch.
This time, everything went flawlessly.
My crew and I arrived at the launchpad three hours before liftoff. As I went about my many duties in the orbiter, I was able to take a few glances at the mirror on the glare shield. I could look back to where Gabby was on that rooftop, and think about improvements she might make over the next two weeks, while I was gone. She was scheduled to have surgery in the days ahead to reinsert the missing piece of her skull. Her head would have to be shaved again, of course, but the good news was that when a patient’s skull is reattached, her cognition and ability to speak often improves. I wondered how I’d find Gabby on my return.
Just before liftoff, strapped into the commander’s seat, I said a few words that were broadcast publicly. “On this final flight of space shuttle Endeavour,” I said, “we want to thank all the tens of thousands of dedicated employees who have put their hands on this incredible ship, and dedicated their lives to the space shuttle program.
“As Americans, we endeavor to build a better life than the generation before, and we endeavor to be a united nation. In those efforts we are often tested. This mission represents the power of teamwork, commitment, and exploration. It is in the DNA of our great country to reach for the stars and explore. We must not stop . . .”
Mike Leinbach, the launch director, replied, “Thank you, sir. And to do that, you are clear to launch Endeavour.”
“Copy that,” I said. “Thank you.”
After that, we were off, in an earthshaking rumble through heavy cloud cover, burning fuel at the rate of one thousand gallons per second.
I was told that Gabby smiled through the launch but she didn’t say much. Claudia and Claire had shouted out the final ten seconds of the countdown, and then there were a lot of smiles and tears. Everyone felt relieved that we’d made it safely into orbit.
Part of the bond that Claudia and Claire have with Scott’s kids, Samantha and Charlotte, is rooted in a shared understanding of what it’s like to watch a father go off into space. STS-134’s liftoff inspired Claire to later send me a beautiful e-mail about her feelings at all four of my launches. “When I hear the roar of the engines,” she wrote, “tears start streaming down my face. Am I happy or am I sad? I watch you turn into a little white dot high in the sky, until I can’t see you any longer. I’m not sure what state of mind I’m in. I just can’t stop crying. I can’t say whether I’m nervous, scared, excited, proud. It’s everything bundled up and shaken up together. It’s an emotion with no name.”
Gabby knows well that nameless emotion. And, since January 8 especially, she knew well the inability to describe it. Minutes after the launch, searching for words, she said, “Good stuff.”
Maybe that’s as good a description as any.
After the shuttle was safely in space, my brother presented each of my girls with a single rose. He gave Gabby red tulips and a note from me reminding her how much I love her. On her neck, she was wearing my wedding ring on a silver chain. She vowed