It was Spring of '97. A soon to be young man of 16 sat flipping channels, having been out enjoying the beautiful sunny day. His parents had decided to lie down for a Sunday afternoon nap. Some time later the phone rang. He sprung from the couch to rush and answer it in as few rings as possible. It was his aunt on the other end."Hello"
"Hey, is your mom there?"
"She's taking a nap right now, want me to have her call you?"
"I think you should wake her up."
He walked to their room, and knocked on the door, informed his mother of whom it was and that she had asked to wake her and handed her the phone. Something already didn't seem quite right, and it seemed everyone in the room knew it. He turned to walk away, through the short entry hall to his parents room and sat at a chair at the dining room table just outside. He could hear his mother on the phone and see her from where he sat...and then, a crushing blow seemed to hit his mom as she covered her mouth and tears formed...and without a clue as to who or what, he began to cry. His Dad was out of bed, and had moved around to her side. "Daddy and Scott are dead" she said...a pause...then she pointed her husband to their son, crying just outside the door. His father moved to him and wrapped him in his arms. They moved to the bedroom, he wrapped his arms around his mother and the tears flowed. They packed some things and made the 2 hour trip to be with their family. Some days would pass, mostly a blur of silence, consoling, lots of hugs, and some standard rituals of our culture; visitations and funerals.
It seems that morning his grandfather and uncle had gone out to fly. His grandfather owned and flew vintage open cockpit bi-wing planes. His uncle had caught the fever and was working on his pilot's license as well. The two were performing aerobatics for on-lookers over a lake not far from home when something went tragically wrong. He himself had been there just the weekend before...the last time the plane was in the air before that day. He and his grandfather had made the flight, toured the lake, performed their usual antics and stunts the previous Sunday just before his visit came to an end...a fact that would stick with the boy for years to come. You see for a few years prior the young man had passing thoughts. If and when he was to die surely it would be there, by his grandfather's side doing what they loved! But somehow, he thought, fate screwed up. The plane hadn't gone down the week before as it should have and now his uncle had taken his place...
It's been 12 years today since we lost my grandfather and uncle, an event that ultimately would direct my life to where it is today. For several years after I struggled greatly. I had lost the 2 men, other than my father, that I loved most in this world as well as my favorite hobby in life; flying with my grandfather. For more than 2 years after the crash in my mind I was certain that something went terribly wrong, that i was supposed to be gone instead of my uncle. A tremendous amount of guilt that at times would eat away at me, cause anger and bouts of extreme sadness. It would be my first true lesson in grief and loss. Over time I've worked through it. The etched images of the loss, how it happened and the tears that accompanied them would gradually fade. As time passes on, when I think about them (a nearly daily occurrence still to this day) far more often there are images of the antics, the fun, the laughs and smiles we shared that override the tears...the living outshines the dying. Don't get me wrong, there are still times when the tears flow like rain. Last night being one of them, anniversaries and holidays have a way of doing that I find...as does the occasional completely random moment. I would likely point back to them, losing them, the way I saw it impact myself and my family as the reason I am where I am today, working as a counselor, predominately focused on grief and loss.
I learned much more from them. It is a lesson that guides my life. You see my grandfather and uncle lost their lives doing one of the things they loved most in this world...we don't all get that luxury. While this was hard on my family, still is at times I'm sure, I know it's how my grandfather would have wanted to go...without my uncle of course. I think both of them, given the choice, if they were able to do so with out hurting us, would have chosen just such a way, or something very similar...I know I would.
When I think back now it's easy to envision rolling out the plane, preparing for a flight, dropping tools on each others heads while working on the plane or hanging plywood over the windows at the beach before a hurricane (during which my grandfather had every intention of riding out with out necessary rations, a gallon of milk and a dozen cake donuts), digging massive fox-holes on the beach with my uncle for the kids to play in, riding in a station wagon filled with airplane fuel (words don't do it justice), and so many more fond memories. But one memory, above all these, sticks with me daily.
I would spend weeks or long weekend with my grandfather as often as school allowed. Every morning from the time I was about 10 we would get up and start the day. At some point he would walk to the window, I would rush over to lean on the seal and look out just as he was. And if I was lucky he would say "Looks like a great day for flying..." and off we went. I would watch the world shrink beneath us, feel the wind on my face, and in an action my grandfather referred to as a "free plane wash" fly literally through the clouds. I would reach my hands out of the cockpit, the moisture would hit my palms like needles...I was literally touching the clouds...and to me, to fly equated to truly living. And that is what both my grandfather and uncle did. Live fun and love big. Both of them had such huge hearts and fun loving spirits, it was infectious.
To this day, rarely does a sunny day go by that looking out my front door, looking out the window of the car, sitting outside at an event...do I not hear my grandfather's words...and he's right...everyday is a great day to fly.
Daddy Jim and Uncle Scott, you are deeply loved and truly missed!
-To any readers: Thank you for taking the time to read this. After writing it I realize it may not be as meaningful or insightful to others, but perhaps if nothing else, this one was therapeutic for me...so again, thanks!
