A Few Rows Behind an Astronaut
By FARHA GUERRERO
An Open Letter to Chris Hadfield
On our flight towards Greece, I passed by Canadian astronaut Chris Hadfield. He looked remarkable for his age.
When I took my seat, I wondered how I could convey a few words to him without interrupting his silence. I asked a flight attendant if she could kindly deliver a letter to him. She said she could, but couldn't confirm his identity, as Air Canada protects the privacy of its passengers.
I told her there was no need to confirm that he received it — I just needed her to hand it to him. I was happy simply imagining that he did. As a writer, that was more important.
I spent about half the flight writing the letter by hand with my Caran d'Ache pen and stationery, then passed it on to her.
Shortly afterwards, a man walked down the aisle holding my folded letter in his hands. I said nothing.
He returned down the aisle again, this time knowing where the mysterious writer was sitting. He introduced himself, thanked me for my words, and spoke for a short while with my husband and me about our son, kneeling on the floor so that he could speak to us at eye level.
Chris Hadfield asked if we wanted a photograph with him.
"No, I'm too old-fashioned for that in public," I said.
"What matters is that I was able to give you this," I said.
And with that, we parted.
FG
The full letter is transcribed below, along with a photograph of the handwritten original.
Dear Chris Hadfield,
I am sitting a few rows behind you on this Boeing 777 to Toronto Pearson. It seems like the perfect place to see you for the first time — a Canadian hero, the day before Remembrance Day.
For many years, you were a household name — my younger son watched endless videos of you, on repeat — entering your life in the International Space Station, imagining and dreaming of doing the same thing one day. He was just a young child then, but at seventeen, not much has changed. He sometimes straps a telescope on the back of his e-bike and goes to one of the lakeside docks in Whistler to point his lens upwards late at night to have a glimpse of those distant planets and stars and imagine those 'exo' and 'rogue' worlds that he knows exist in that dark, vast space above.
Last year, I asked him if he would consider pilot school, combined with a university degree. He was delighted at the prospect and just recently, he received notice that he passed his pilot medical exam. The joy was intense, especially for me, because our son was one of those 'miracle' babies, born so premature, a combined hospital stay of three months for both of us — both of us in peril, with 24 hour care before we could come home and start our lives together. I've always likened the NICU ward to a sort of NASA control centre — it is very intense and there is much at stake — survival is everything.
My son Isa shares another love with you. He plays music, this past year a lot of singing and playing guitar. I love the live 'concerts' that I hear in our home every day — piano and drums too. I already know that the day he takes to the skies and leaves home, I will miss his song, his voice.
But I also know that as a mother, I have to let him go, let him forge his own path, carve out his own life.
I want to thank you — for being a role model to so many — for going to schools, for inspiring the younger generation to always dream — to imagine life elsewhere — in this extraordinary universe that we all inhabit, that, I believe, we will all remain in when we pass, just like my mother who died six years ago on Remembrance Day — she loved flowers so the red poppy also brings me joy.
Finally, and this of course is just a dream, but wouldn't it be nice to speak with you on my humble radio show, The Blue Hour on CiTR 101.9 FM (citr.ca) at UBC. I've had Jaymie Matthews a couple of times — he helped launch MOST — Canada's first space telescope, as you know, and also Michelle Kunimoto, a very young astrophysicist who is so very determined to find more exo-planets, to add to the thousands of 'confirmed' ones.
In January, I'll also be interviewing Paolo Ferri — from ESA, the man that launched the Rosetta mission — exciting times ahead in Italy where we have a second home.
I'll keep my dream of interviewing you too alive — especially because I have a son who adores you.
I will say too, that you haven't aged at all — very easily recognizable as I passed by you on the plane.
Thank you again for your service to this country, your service to humanity. Thank you for being curious.
All my best,
Farha Guerrero
