Gabby_ A Story of Courage and Hope - Alison Hanson [137]
When Gabby entered the auditorium in her wheelchair unannounced, we could hear the crowd murmuring as people realized she was there. Within a minute, the entire audience had risen for a prolonged standing ovation for Gabby. She smiled and waved. Hundreds of cameras seemed to be flashing at once, and Gabby was genuinely grateful for the crowd’s affectionate welcome.
When I received my medal, Gabby stood up, and I walked over to hug and kiss her. The crowd liked that. After the ceremony, my crew and I narrated a PowerPoint presentation of photos taken during our flight. Then a fourteen-minute video of mission highlights was shown on the giant IMAX screen, with “Beautiful Day” as part of the soundtrack.
Gabby and I made eye contact as the song played. We were both smiling, but I figured she was thinking the same thing I was—about all that had transpired in the five years since she first played that song for me as a wake-up call in space.
We had both learned so much. What defines a beautiful day? Sometimes, something as simple as a sentence with a question mark at the end of it.
If people can’t ask questions, it’s not always easy to have a conversation with them. You don’t realize that until you spend your life with someone unable to ask a question.
Gabby’s inquisitiveness used to define her. She was full of great questions. I loved that about her, and I missed it. As the months went by, I knew she must have had a lot of questions piling up in her head. I continued trying to coax them out of her, with no success. I would frequently just answer those unasked questions for her. That resulted in a lot of one-sided conversations. In time, things improved.
People would always ask Gabby, “How are you?” Eventually, she was able to easily answer, “I’m fine, how are you?” But that was sort of a rote response. She was repeating what she’d just heard. It was very practiced.
Meanwhile, I kept waiting and hoping for a real question.
On July 6, two days before the six-month anniversary of the shooting, the breakthrough came. Gabby and I were alone together at home, eating dinner. “What did you do today?” I asked her.
“Therapy,” she answered.
“How did it go?”
“Worn out,” she said. “Really tired. This is hard. I’m trying.”
We continued eating our salad and spaghetti. Then Gabby turned to me. “Your day?” she said.
From her inflection, I completely felt the question mark at the end of the sentence.
“Gabby, was that a question? Are you asking me how my day was?”
She was sensing the power of the moment, too. “Yes!” she said.
Her entire face lit up with a big smile. She spoke more confidently: “Yes, how was your day?”
I was momentarily shocked. “Gabby, this is a big deal!” I said. “I’ve been trying to get you to ask me a question for months, and now you’ve done it. This is the first time you’ve asked me anything!”
Gabby smiled. I was actually emotional. It’s not that I was going to cry. I was just very happy. Almost overwhelmed.
“Your day?” Gabby said again. In my excitement, I couldn’t even remember my day at all. I took out my BlackBerry and scrolled through e-mails to jog my memory.
“Let’s see, I went to lunch with Claudia.” I continued scrolling down. “I went into my office at NASA to pack up some things and go through everything on my computer . . .”
Gabby listened intently. “Oh,” I said, “I also went to Dillard’s to return your clothing.”
She smiled. She definitely considered that to be a necessary errand. I had gone shopping days earlier and bought Gabby a pair of shorts that were too big and a pair of white jeans. She hated the jeans. She actually had a negative physical reaction to them. She shuddered. I’d never gone clothes shopping for her before and I apparently wasn