FROM THE EDITOR

It remains our nation’s biggest disaster – the day 257 lives were lost in an instant. Forty years on from the Erebus crash, emotions still boil close to the surface for so many Kiwis who lost loved ones.

It seems every household in our small country has a connection of some sort, and in this issue we honour those stories and those who perished while doing something that is the very essence of being a Kiwi – embarking on an adventure, being intrepid and travelling to new frontiers at the edges of the earth.

It’s with a heavy heart that I read through our stories this week, which range from those in our archive that ran shortly after the disaster, to new stories of future generations who still carry their family’s grief.

I was born a couple of years after the crash, so I have no memories of my own to draw on, but the anniversary is always a day on which I stop and feel a great sense of gratitude.

On November 28, 1979, my mum was nearing my big brother’s due date, while my dad was working as an Air New Zealand flight attendant. We were among those lucky families whose parents came home from work that day.

Dad was adamant that the disaster shouldn’t stop us from exploring the world, and he continued to come home with stories of his adventures. Later, I even got to share some of those adventures.

This week, my thoughts will be with the families who had their adventures cut so tragically short on that dark day.