It was a pretty Sunday afternoon, the sun was shining and it was a bit warmer than it had been in a while.

And then, there were sirens. The only time I heard that many sirens before was when there was an emergency landing at the airport. I figured once again, that that was the issue. Only this time, it was a bit different.

I looked out the window and saw the fire engines make their way about a half mile north to the airport. I didn’t see any visible signs of trouble and continued doing my normal weekend household chores.

About 20 minutes later I got a text from a friend of mine that said that a small plane had made an emergency landing and crashed on a house on Iowa Street in South Bend.

My mind immediately flashed to a friend of mine’s father whom I knew lived on Iowa Street, I just wasn’t sure which block.

I turned on the news and highlights flashed on the screen but I couldn’t tell.

Throughout the course of the week, residents of South Bend were brought up to date about what had happened with the plane, who the passengers were, and who the homeowners where.

PatriciaKobalski, whose home was impacted the most, shared with us her most intimate fears of how the plane crashed into her home and how she and her six-year-old son had made it out of her home without harm.

Neighborsshared their recollection of how they looked out their windows and saw a small engine plane fly into the homes of their neighbors and friends.

Immediate messages questioned whether there were survivors and whether or not there were people home at the time the small plane invaded Iowa Street on a Sunday afternoon on St. Patrick’s Day.

After all, this was the home of the Irish and it was St. Patrick’s Day, right?

In a way, I guess so. I guess it depends on who you talk to.

At the end of the day, two people were dead, three people were injured and several others were temporarily homeless.

Due to a fear of a natural gas leak and then a jet fuel leak, about 70 residents living on nearby streets were temporarily displaced.

Throughout the following days, there were round the clock updates about the homeowners, the crash scene, the pilots and their passengers and much more.

As residents, we eagerly listened for any updates on the people we might know and hoped that the survivors were well taken care of.

My friend’s father was ok. His home however, was the third home that was struck by the plane. This was his home. It was the place he had spent the past 55 years of his life. At 80+ years, his memories of his late wife, their neighbors, his sons growing up in the place he called home, probably flashed before his eyes many times as rescue units lined curbs of Iowa Street.

If you hadn’t heard of Iowa Street before March 17, 2013, you had heard about it without a few hours.

It wasn’t until about 8pm on March 24^th that I drove by Iowa Street.

I’m not sure why. I thought about it earlier in the week, but in a way I thought it was disrespectful. Two people died and many people’s lives were totally turned upside down. It seemed sad to gawk at their disbelief.

But today felt different for some reason. I drove slowly down the street, almost as if I was sneaking up on the scene.

In one week, all the fire engines, ambulances, big wig NTSB plane people and others had cleared the scene.

I was sad.

In one week, the owners of these three houses were totally displaced. There homes had been the scene of a national tragedy. A plane had nose-dived into the living room of one of the homes. Seventy residents had been asked to clear the neighborhood for the evening and news stations had descended on the quiet neighborhood.

In that week , these three residents’ lives had been totally turned around.

In one week , they’d been sitting in their homes, enjoying a leisurely Sunday afternoon and the next week, they were living in hotels, with their homes leveled and their prized possessions in garbage bins.

I could only think of my friend, whose father’s home was still standing, but completely compromised. Homes can be replaced, but family can’t. But at 80+ years-old, I’m sure no he wants to rebuild what he has lost.

And then, I flashed back to a sentence I’d read in the paper where the widow of the owner of the plane stated, “I think he’s dead,” and hung up when the newspaper reporter called.

Not only did the small plane from Tulsa, Oklahoma cause a large stir in South Bend, Indiana. But it also rocked the lives of many in Tulsa. There were four people on board the aircraft that crippled the small house on Iowa. Two died and two survived. I can only imagine the joy of the family members of the passengers who survived.

They are here for a reason and I hope they look beyond everything that happened to realize that they are needed a little while longer here. Yet in the same breath, I don’t understand why they were spared and the other two on board were taken.

Whatever the reason, it isn’t for me to understand or figure out.

Instead, I hope we all take away from this tragedy that our South Bend Community is tight knit.

That we’re strong and will rebuild.

And finally, that we need to enjoy each day to its fullest because it isn’t a guarantee. Life is what we make it and who we choose to invite in and enjoy it with us. Whatever our purpose is in life, I hope we all make the best of it…