On May 22nd, I took a few moments to remember Air India Express Flight 812.
I remembered when I went to Mangelore, where I’d walked the path the Boeing had taken when it overshot its landing. I tried not to revisit the tragedy of it all. I tried not to remember that if that cockpit had not been the site of the crew resource management issues, I might have had no disaster to remember. Hindsight vision is always sadly perfect.
There were eight survivors of that flight, and a hundred and fifty-eight fatalities. The plane ploughed through all barriers, arrestor beds and an antennae, and catapulted over the edge of the runway down a hill. Afterwards a support group was formed for the families, but all the emotional support in the world can never replace missing loved ones. I can only hope they visited you in your dreams.
All I want to say to the lost family members and the survivors is to treasure your memories. The cords of memories weave together the threads that make our lives, stretching from every point living and dead, and every heart we touch. As long as we remember the ones we love, that is how long they will stay with us.