The Columbia Space Shuttle

The Columbia Space Shuttle with all crew was lost today.

I am bewildered by my emotional response to this disaster.

When the Challenger was lost 17 years ago, I was devastated and cried for days. I was glued to the TV set and could not focus on anything else.

This morning, I grieved for the families of the 7 brave astronauts. It hurt to imagine the pain they were suffering over such a public tragedy. I watched the speeding smoke and fire plumes repeatedly on TV. Finally, I left the house and went to see a movie. Callous? Uncaring? No, I don't think so. I am sorry the disaster happened. I wish there was a way to undo it. There is none.

At least, the crew was able to spent 16 wonder-filled days in space. They experienced sights that very few humans will ever call their own. I feel that all 7 would consider their last 16 days to be one of their greatest achievements in life. I wish they were alive and telling their families and friends about their trip. They are not.

I feel a little more distant from this disaster. Why? There is a greater acceptance on my part that terrible things happen in this world. As I learned with the 9/11 catastrophe, life does go on. In fact, life must go on in order to validate the ultimate sacrifices made. I cannot hide from the ugly side of life. I cannot pretend that bad or evil things do not happen. I will be strong and resolute in the face of disaster.

Have the events of 9/11 made me colder? Have I become desensitized to pain? Or have the events cost me my innocence and naiveté about the future? Am I becoming a warrior in the War on Terror?

Or, am I simply 17 years older?