Some things transcend regions and localities. Little parts, glimpses of life if you will, have ways of touching even the coldest of people. Such is the case with the story of Jonathan and Iain Clark, husband and son of Laurel Clark, one of the astronauts killed in the Columbia catastrophe.

This past weekend, on a seven-hour bus ride to St. Louis, I found myself faced with the tale of these two courageous males while reading People magazine. I thumbed through various stories of fashion and entertainment industry fluff until I came to page 79.

On page 79 I encountered a picture of a man with an 8-year-old boy, the boy hugging a white teddy bear. “I miss my mom,” read the caption.

I knew from this insight that the picture of the smiling young boy told nothing of the tragedy he went through. This photo almost hid the hardships that this boy has and will endure, difficulties which I know I could never withstand.

This boy, Iain, will have to face a lifetime without the touch of his mother, without the love that she was supposed to provide as he grews up. All he has is eight years of memories, which over time will fade.

Most of all, Iain is faced with a number of questions, well-outlined in the article. Iain asks his father, “If Mommy’s an angel and can get anything she wants, why can’t she wish to be back alive?” or, “Why did she have to go into space?”

NASA may be left to answer the difficult question of why Columbia disintegrated on Feb. 1, but the toughest questions — Iain’s questions — are reserved for his father. Not only does Jonathan Clark have to deal with the loss of his wife, but must also figure out a way to explain to a second-grader why his mom will never tuck him into bed again at night.

Personally, I’d gladly take NASA’s job over Jonathan’s.

Jonathan, though, has no choice. He must endure his son’s unanswerable questions, plus the pain brought by his love’s untimely and most tragic death.

“I was never into the past,” Jonathan told People. “But now I find so many precious things to remember.”

This story, while incredibly sad, has an important message, a message often only seen in the hindsight of death, loss or sorrow: Appreciate what you have while you still have it.

Lives can change faster than the speed of light, but many of us still fail to look around and relish what we have right now. We take the things we have for granted, the people who improve our lives for granted.

Years are wasted without any real attention to the details that make our days on this Earth just a little better.

I cannot deny that I am guilty of that which I am preaching about. This time of year is especially hectic for me, with papers, tests, financial aid issues for next year and work piled high on my plate. My stress levels are at their peak. Everything is me, me, me — it is never about anybody else. I have blinders on to the rest of the world.

But Iain and Jonathan’s story caught my attention.

In less than a month, many people are going to have to deal with loss, although not necessarily as great of one as the Clarks had to face. In May a number of students will graduate, leaving Iowa State for good in search of jobs in the “real” world. They’ll leave behind their friends, some even their families, in hopes of lighting a torch in what may currently seem like a dark future.

Those of us left behind will have to deal with the aftermath of the impacts these people have made on us. I know I will miss a number of friends who are graduating, some who will be as close as Des Moines and Kansas City and one as far away as Florida. These people won’t be here for me to hang out with anymore, to whine about my problems to or to just enjoy their company.

Over time, we will all be faced with greater problems than our friends moving away. But the issue is not how we deal with the loss, it is how we use the time before it happens. It is about how we appreciate the people in our lives while they are still around to know we care about them.

We can cry for them all we want when they are no longer a part of our lives, but unless we tell them, they will never know how important they were.

So I have a suggestion for anyone reading this. Take a second and tell someone in your life that they matter. They may look at you kind of funny, but at least they will know they are cherished.