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Remembrance of a tragedy also brings hope

Three weeks ago, I attended the 20th anniversary remembrance of the crash of American Eagle Flight 4184 in Roselawn, Ind., where I lost my sister and 4-year-old nephew. I stood at the roadside memorial in driving sleet and snow accompanied by almost 70 mph winds.

Most would have complained about the weather. I found it almost fitting. You see, there hadn't been a Halloween with weather this severe since the one 20 years earlier that caused the Chicago-bound plane carrying my sister, her youngest son and 66 crew and passengers to crash.

In the years following, I have advocated for families' and survivors' rights. The result was legislation that revamped response efforts of the airlines, ensuring that families receive the information and resources they are entitled to and are taken care of in a more humane way.

Today, I speak about family assistance regarding man-made and natural disasters. I also wrote a book, "In the Wake of the Storm; Living Beyond the Tragedy of Flight 4184," about the power of the average person to effect change and addressing a universal message of hope and the resilience of the human spirit.

Three weeks ago, as I drove away following the service, I watched the gray clouds part and on the horizon the sun appeared along with a splash of brilliant colors that stretched across the sky. I admired the gift of this beautiful sunset after having endured the tremendous storm. Then suddenly, I was jolted. Recollecting the epilogue of my book, it was as if I was reading my very last paragraph in the western sky now before me:

" ... all endings eventually signal the emergence of new beginnings and new hope. In the immediate aftermath of the tragedy, I was standing underneath an expansive stretch of grayish-black sky that had no discernible beginning or end, enduring what seemed to be an ongoing torrent of gusting winds and pounding rain; however, the storm eventually passed, as all things inevitably do, and the sky above me is now blue, with the distant clouds slowly fading into the horizon. The sun has finally set upon Roselawn, and from the receding cloud-line has burst dusk's brilliant and beautiful shades of pink, orange and purple, signifying the close of a cycle; but in the morning, when the sun's light again breaks through the darkness and lines the eastern sky with the different and yet equally magnificent colors of dawn, a new cycle is begun in which life and promise manifest out of the ashes of Flight 4814."

I felt like I had just read my book in the very clouds that brought the plane down, drastically changed my life and then offered me hope for another tomorrow. The only difference between now and 20 years earlier is that I lived. Sixty-eight others were less fortunate.

Reflecting back as one so naturally does during times of anniversaries and Thanksgiving, I can't help but reflect on the gift of life. I am grateful for my everlasting love for my sister and nephew that profoundly shaped who I am as I moved forward while incorporating the memories of the past. I am thankful for the blessings in my life and for the challenges that have given me the opportunity for personal growth and to learn.

Pablo Picasso said, "The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away." I have gained much knowledge and experience as a result of this great loss in my life. I will forever look for ways to advocate, educate and do all I can to support victims of future tragedies.

• Terri Severin is an Arlington Heights resident. Her website is www.inthewakeofthestorm.com.

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