There has been so much to say, so much going on, so many thoughts…

So Much.

Just when I think that the roller-coaster of emotions has entered a level track, I get hit again. Some of the hits have taught me things about individuals and people in general. Other hits have taught me more and more about myself, both good things and the things I need to work on. And then there are the hits that take their time to show how much pain they can inflict as well as the hits that will always be there – every event, birthday, etc.

A dear friend and I got into a conversation a couple of weeks ago. I was feeling completely down and at a loss as to why I was still here. So much hurt and loneliness had been creeping in for the past several months and the airplane crash in August really sent me spiraling down – slowly – but still down. Then came the 2 year anniversary of Doug’s death, spreading his ashes, then my Uncle passing the same day as Doug did, completely losing it with a family member who doesn’t speak about nor has any pictures of Doug and I up in their house any longer after they started lecturing me on how to behave with my newly widowed Aunt…So much started making me feel that there was absolutely no purpose for me being here. Everywhere I turned, I was alone. Everywhere in my life – some kind of shit was happening. I was trying so hard, working so hard to get past all of it. To let go of so much. Let go of so much anger, hatred, hurt, sadness…all of it. I was trying and each time I felt better, something else would happen. My friend and I discussed all of this. We both cried and I reassured her that no – I wasn’t going anywhere but I did just question why the hell I was here. What purpose do I have? What am I supposed to learn?

Shortly after that conversation, I picked up one of Doug’s Buddhism books. I had read it before and glancing through some of the pages motivated me to purchase others. In one particular book, When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron, he writes:

“On the night on which he was to attain enlightenment, the Buddha sat under a tree. While he was sitting there, he was attacked by the forces of Mara. The story goes that they shot swords and arrow at him, and that their weapons turned into flowers. What does this story mean? My understanding of it is that what we habitually regard as obstacles are not really our enemies, but rather our friends. What we call obstacles are really the way the world and our entire experience teach us where we’re stuck. What may appear to be an arrow or a sword we can actually experience as a flower. Whether we experience what happens to us as obstacle and enemy or as teacher and friend depends entirely on our perception of reality. It depends on our relationship with ourselves.”

Anyone that has ever known me knows that I truly believe that we learn from whatever is in front of us – good or bad. I know that in my 20′s I had a great many obstacles in front of me that I learned from, let go and accepted the teachings. Essentially, I did turn the arrows and swords into flowers (to a degree – I’m no Buddha). The moment I did this and gained a sort of ‘enlightenment’ is when I met Doug. He was like no other person I had been with. He was what I had asked the Universe for. He was what I needed in order to learn even more. The moment I learned my lessons and moved beyond those that were hurtful, deceitful, conniving, selfish – was the moment a huge world opened up. It wasn’t just Doug that I met. I soon met people who would become close, wonderful and dear friends. I still had lessons to learn and in that period of my life, some I learned more quickly than others.

I find it interesting to look at this passage as a widow. So many of the obstacles that we (widows and widowers) face are the obstacles of human nature itself. The obstacles are the realizations that our perceptions and especially our expectations are just that – ours. There is no substance behind so much of it. We learn that we can not have high expectations for so many – it’s just not in their fiber. And from that, we must learn that this is all okay. Because, as the author states, we are shown where we are stuck. Maybe it is a toxic friendship that has always been toxic. Or maybe it is a friendship that we have always expected more out of but have never received and now we have the chance to just take it for what it is – take it with loving arms and open arms still giving what we can and learning not to expect anything in return. Widows and widowers can definitely get stuck. I hear stories of the same things happening over and over and over again in other widows/ers lives and it never seems to involve the same people. This is where we must take a look and see where we are stuck – what are we supposed to learn. What changes do we need to make.

Obstacles will always be in front of us. The obstacles will never go away until it has taught us what we need to know. It will return with ‘new names, forms, and manifestations until we learn whatever it has to teach us about where we are separating ourselves from reality, how we are pulling back instead of opening up, closing down instead of allowing ourselves to experience fully whatever we encounter, without hesitating or retreating into ourselves.’ After first reading this portion of the book, I found myself quite angry…something that probably was not intended by the author. I wanted to write him a letter and ask him ‘what about wrong-doing? what about the wrongs committed against me? The death of my husband, friends who have completely dropped off the face of the earth, people who I have felt betrayed by, situations where I feel I have absolutely no voice. What about those?’

And then it dawned on me…no voice. In all of these situations, I have felt that I have had no voice – or at least one that was heard. I had no voice in the death of my husband, no voice with friends that have walked away and certainly no voice that was heard by those that have betrayed or those surrounding them. I realized that all of these situations, these people, the universe would never hear me because I was not connected to my “basic wisdom mind”.

“Traditional teachings on the forces of Mara describe the nature of obstacles and the nature of how human beings habitually become confused and lose confidence in our basic wisdom mind. The maras provide descriptions of some very familiar ways in which we try to avoid what is happening.

There are four maras. Devaputra Mara involves seeking pleasure. When we are in a situation where we feel embarrassed or awkward, when pain presents itself to us in any form, we run from it in order to try to feel comfortable once again. Our bubble of reality that we once that was secure and certain has been popped. Having this happen to us, we don’t want to feel the pain nor the anxiety or the queasiness in our stomach or the anger rising within us or the taste of resentment. We seek pleasure to avoid the pain. When pain arises we want it gone. We may reach out to drugs or alcohol or watch TV in order to numb the mind and therefore the pain. We try to escape from the “more awkward, unpleasant, and penetrating aspects of being alive”.  Instead of changing all of this into a flower – we run. And this is where we have the ability to change all of this into a flower. By observing what it is that we do when we have pain, opening our hearts and taking a look at how we escape. We are able to look at our weakness and see it as a source of wisdom and that this is a way to connect to our basic wisdom mind.

This first mara is one that I must still re-read and remind myself of constantly.

Skandha mara is how we react when the rug is pulled out from under us. Ahh…yes, I know this one quite well. Our world gets shattered. We have no idea what will happen next or where we are and then we recreate ourselves. We try to go immediately back to a very solid ground of our self-concept. By doing this, recreating ourselves, we do not trust in our basic wisdom mind enough to say ‘let me stay right here and not be on that solid ground’. Touching into the mind of simply not knowing – basic wisdom mind. Touching into this gives us an opportunity to be inquisitive – what will happen next? Who will I become?

Klesha mara is emotion – strong emotion. “When everything falls apart and we feel uncertainty, disappointment, shock, embarrassment, what’s left is a mind that is clear, unbiased, and fresh. But we don’t see that. We use our emotions. We USE them. In their essence, they are simply a part of the goodness of being alive, but instead of letting them be, we take them and use them to regain our ground. We use them to try to make everything secure and predictable and real again, to fool ourselves about what’s really true. There’s no particular need to spread blame and self-justification.” This, once again, does not need to be viewed as an obstacle but as a time when we can take a real look and see the wildness of emotion and when we do this then we can begin to befriend and soften toward ourselves, we develop true compassion for ourselves and everyone else.  This one is harder for me to put into practice and fully envelope and then once I struggle with it, I’m reminded of skandha mara…oh the circling one does for enlightenment.

Yama mara – fear of death. This is an interesting one…Essentially, so much of what we strive for is to get to a point where we feel we’ve finally gotten it together. We have it all. We strive for perfection and security. If we run enough, meditate enough, eat the right food everything will be perfect. When we become seekers of security or perfection, happy in feeling confirmed and whole, self-contained and comfortable – this is death – to someone who is awake. ‘Living’ like this does not allow for something to come in and interrupt all of this. Controlling our experience of life sets us up for failure when an experience that we can not control comes into our life. “To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest. To live fully is to be always in no-man’s-land, to experience each moment as completely new and fresh. To live is to be willing to die over and over again. This is life. Death is wanting to hold on to what you have and to have every experience confirm you and congratulate you and make you feel completely together. With this, yama mara is actually the fear of life. I’m definitely the one who likes the control and it is quite interesting that the moments that I feel I have finally ‘gotten it together’ over the past 2 years is exactly when things fall apart. I struggled with this before I met Doug and I struggle with it once again.

It is quite interesting that when I was with him, I never did struggle with it – when I did have everything. In our life together though, we lived. We did not try to control or strive for perfection – we lived. And as I sit and think about all of that it has dawned on me that this aspect of our life together has given me strength to continue after his death. That when the biggest rug of all was pulled from beneath me, I allowed myself to feel every single emotion and understood that I was running from pain and I knew my reactions and emotions. I let go of any self-concept and it felt natural to not cling to who I was before.

It is only in the past year that I have fallen back into needing control, striving for perfection, wanting to feel confirmed and whole, used emotions and ran from pain. I’ve had more obstacles…and so many are obstacles that I have faced before. The ‘before Doug’ life…

It makes me ponder…

I was enlightened with Doug and even more so through his death. I was more alive with him and through the first year of his death than I am now. Was he sent to me because he knew how to live life? Was he taken from me because he was ready to move to the next level of enlightenment? Was his death really for a reason?

I’m not sure. For a second there…but alas, there will be no major items of enlightenment for me tonight…well, maybe just a couple.

One, I am grateful to and for all of those that have stood by me, listened to me, cried with me, pissed me off, still stood by me when I pissed you off, reached out with true compassion and love. I am grateful for those friends and family. I’m also so very grateful for those that have come back into my life. Friendships that were renewed from days long ago. Friendships that are blossoming from being aquiantences. Friendships that are just starting. I see how much you have given to me and how compassionate and loving you are to all of those around you and I thank you again for allowing me to struggle with the obstacles in front of me but never faltering in your support or love for me. And thank you for your willingness to listen – listen even though you’d like to scream at me to wake the fuck up and see those in front of me who truly do care and who will always be family. I have much to learn…

Obstacles, watch out. I think I just might have learned some lessons…and I say that not knowing myself, allowing all emotions to just be and without need of confirmation.

Namaste.

Now, after completing year two…I feel absent.

Some good things have happened in the past year and some really shitty things have happened. The first 6 months felt as if I was heading towards some semblance of life. The last 6 months. Not really. Most of the time I wonder if I’m cursed. How much can we really take? I’m at the end of my rope. That’s for sure. I have one handful of people I still believe in and cherish. For me, that thought is just so sad. I suppose it is time to write off so much of what I thought about people and about life and start anew. And there will certainly be a very thick wall surrounding me. I’m not sure how to exist otherwise.

My heart is just quite heavy these days. I absolutely ache for my best friend. The one person that knew me the best. I am so angry that his life was taken. I’m so angry at it all.

You are three years old today. Officially at 11:09pm…

How you brighten my world. Today, I spent some time with you at school and brought cupcakes with pink icing and sprinkles (both requested by you) & we had your celebration of life with your classmates. You were so excited in your ‘I’m so excited I’m about to burst but I won’t really let you know that I’m that excited’ way that you have about you. We shared pictures of you as a newborn, then at 1 and again at 2. I honestly didn’t know if I would be able to make it through without bursting into tears but I think I got a lot of those tears out yesterday so I had my composure in check today. You showed me around your classroom and you want me to come back and spend time with you there again. You just really made it all so wonderful for me today.

You were excited about your birthday presents and you broke down crying because you couldn’t ride your new bike to dinner…but you did wear your helmet!

You are at a point where you are starting to make up stories, ‘read’ your books and I just see your imagination growing and growing every day. This is such and exciting time as a parent. It’s such a lovely time as a parent. I love when you are really loving a moment and you just come up to me and give me a hug just to let me know that you are happy. And you are so very very happy.

I think that we were given you for a reason. You somehow roll with the punches in an amazing way. You are such a great kid and a fun kid and a loving kid. I don’t know how I would have made it through the past 2 years with you being any other way.

It breaks my heart still and it will always break my heart that your Dad is not here to see you growing and changing. I can hear his voice and responses to you in certain situations and I just sit back and smile – imagining what it would be like. I know he would be having so much fun with you and he would be telling others that it is ‘just damn cool’ to be a Dad. He just couldn’t wait to see you, meet you & to have that name of Dad. He would be so proud of you.

Today, after we got home from school, I let you have a cupcake and put 3 candles on it and set up the video camera, lit the candles and sat with you and sang ‘happy birthday’ to you. That’s what we did for you 2 years ago. I still watch that video sometimes. To hear your Dad’s voice, to see you at that age. After I was done singing, I asked you who else wanted to tell you ‘happy birthday’ and you yelled Daddy! He loves you so much my darling son.

We are leaving tomorrow for Montana. My Uncle John is nearing his death and it is a matter of days. Timing couldn’t suck worse but I think that the universe is pushing me in a direction that I’ve had some problems with the past 2 years…spreading some of your Dad’s ashes. I’ve been toting around a small plastic container of some of his ashes on most every trip I’ve been on for the past 2 years…and none have been released to this date. I knew I wanted to spread some at Yellowstone because that place is special to us (where he proposed) but I haven’t ever gotten around to actually feeling like the moment is right. So, while we are in Montana you and I are going to head to Yellowstone on my birthday and we are going to release some of your Dad’s ashes at Undine Falls. It was named for wise, usually female water spirits who lived around waterfalls and who could gain souls by marrying mortal men. I did gain my soul when I met your Dad. I learned so much about life from him when he was alive and have learned even more after his death. So, we will release a bit of him back there…where it began.

I would like the universe to note that I am listening to it and doing this – so please give me a break here in the near future. I’m a bit tired of this shit.

My darling son, you are part of my soul and part of my fiber. I will always love you and I am so proud to be your Mom. My heart is filled by your love and by the person you are.

Always your Momom.

In this life and the next.

I’m so thankful that I got to know another side of him and I’m so grateful to him for the conversations that we had after Doug died. I still think about things that he has said to me, especially when I feel as if I’m at my lowest. His words and his beliefs that he has shared with me have helped me. His words to Doug before we got married and the reminder of the safe of rifles and hand guns he kept…reminded me that my family is kind of funny…

My Mom and I are getting ready to head out to see you John. I think she was a little leery of going because of the time of year this is for me. One of the best moments of my life – Lido being born – and the worst time of my life – Doug’s death. But I know that I would regret not seeing you again. To tell you thank you.

Just in case you decide that you’d like to leave this realm before we make it up there, thank you for being my Uncle. Thank you for supporting me and for our conversations. Last night I asked Doug to meet you on the other side, I know you have others waiting there but I asked him to maybe come to you and walk with you. This is your own journey but you do not need to be alone and I know you won’t be. Thank you John, with all my heart. And much love to you. You will always be in my heart.

Three years ago today, I was home on maternity leave and we were anxiously awaiting the arrival of our son. I had an accupuncture appointment on this day hoping that would help get things to move along and Lido would make his grand entrance. He wouldn’t arrive for four more days. During this time you were working like crazy, flying a ton and getting ready to take a few days off to enjoy your newborn (whenever he came).

Two years ago today, we were out at Cannon Beach, enjoying a day to ourselves – just the 3 of us. We had a wonderful breakfast sitting outside and then went to the park where you took Liam for his first trip down the slide. He loved the swings and loved how high you would push him. We walked the beach and took a nap on the sand. I laid my head on your chest and watched the waves roll in and out and watched our son sleeping in his stroller – listened to you breathing, listened to your heart beat. Held your hand. Kissed your neck.

This is so hard. I feel like I’m breaking. This past year, I have kept so much busier with things around here and with the foundation but with all of that, I haven’t grieved like I did the first year. Now, approaching the second anniversary seems so much harder than last year. I know it is because life took on a little more ‘life’ this year…and remembering what once was is like a stab in the heart, a melting of the defenses built to protect, wanting to give my life for yours. I just want you back.

I know I’ve said this before and it is so hard to explain but it just does not seem real. I constantly feel as if I’m walking around as a shadow in a dream world. That this whole thing is not real. How could it be? The times when this feeling is overwhelming me, I wonder if I’m not just in a coma. I wonder if something bad has really happened to me and all of this is just happening in my head. I just feel so hollow.

We had Lido’s birthday party this past weekend. I decided to have it the weekend before his actual birthday because I thought it would be easier to get through…I think the universe has given me a definitive answer – No. Lido came down with a fever Thursday night. By Friday he was off and on with high temps. Saturday morning came and I called/emailed people to make their own decision as to come or not. A lot of people came but didn’t get to see Lido. After I set his cake out on the table, he wanted people to sing to him. After that he said lets cut the cake and the moment a piece was sat in front of him, he looked at me and told me he didn’t feel good. He spent the rest of the party in bed with a fever. When we were setting up for the party (thank you to my brother in law and sister in law) it was gorgeous outside…then the storm came, drenched all the crepe paper hanging to make it look like we were under the ocean…I guess the rain made it a little more realistic…then during the party a picture of Doug was knocked off and the glass broken and about 3 minutes after that a friend’s little girl got some food caught and was choking…All is alright. Picture can be put in another frame and the child was fine. Later that night and I looked up to see a full moon. I think next year, his party will be closer to his birthday – damn the dates involved!

I used to love the fall. Fell in love in the fall. Got married in the fall. Had my son in the fall. My birthday is in the fall.

It’s so hard to hold onto the fact that so much of my life began in the fall but my life was also taken in the fall. My future was taken. My husband’s life and future was taken. And then to have the holidays follow so soon after – ahhh – who the hell am I kidding. Every day just sucks. It’s not fair.

I’ve been doing a crap-ass job in keeping up with these monthly letters to you…Not on time but I’m here and there is so much to say.

First, I absolutely and completely love you. You are so utterly amazing and kind and loving. You have the most brilliant smile which is contagious. You are thoughtful, funny and you have an ease about you. The universe gave you to me for a reason.

Second, you are changing so utterly fast. I look at you and can barely remember my life without you. Your Dad and I used to say that when you came – you just fit. We didn’t have to adjust (other than the lack of sleep). We just fell right into it all – all of us. Including you.

School has started for you and you are loving it. I’m so thankful to have found this place for you. You love learning and come home with new things each day. We are carpooling with a friend a few days a week, which is really nice, and I think you like being able to pick up your friend and have them pick you up. This year I decided to have you in school all week…but I really do miss our Friday Momom and Lido days…After the summer, I really do miss having you here with me. It is easier shopping and getting things done around the house goes much quicker. However, I miss you during the day. We’ll see if you continue with being at school all 5 days…although you do have a LOT of time off! It may even out. I just want you to know though, that I do miss you.

You are starting to ‘read’ your books. You have a couple of them memorized and it is just too cute and wonderful to hear you reading in bed. You still think you know everything and I don’t see that changing much over the years…and sometimes it makes for something funny. The other day you asked me what ‘that’ was and I said it is a globe. You said: “no it’s not it’s a glope”. You were quite adamant about the fact that it was a glope and not a globe. Lately you are asking me what things are and then answering before I can answer you – showing me how much you really know. It’s almost like a small little stepping stone – you used to ask because you didn’t know, now you ask because you want me to know that you do indeed know.

Every night as of late, after we read a book, you ask me to tell you about your Dad. Sometimes it is a long story, other times, just a small thought that may come to me about him. You do miss him.

We are doing okay kid. Every day brings something that is a reminder of the unfairness of it all. It is unfair for you, for me & for your Dad. You seem wise beyond your few years and I wish that I could take all of this away and give you your family back. Give you what you deserve, what we deserve. However, we are here. Just you and me. And we’ll make the best of it…

Your birthday is coming up and we are having a small party this weekend. I asked you today what you would like for your birthday and you said ‘snacks’. We talked yesterday about taking cupcakes to your classroom for your birthday so you are thinking food…and then I asked what kind of present you wanted. I think I’ll get you one of those skateboard things with handles. You rocked on it at your Grandpa’s house so that’s what your getting this year. Your outgrowing the Y-bike and I was thinking about getting you a regular bike or maybe a 3 wheel bike of some sort…We’ll see.

I love you my sweet.

In this life and the next,

Your Momom

Yesterday started the ‘month countdown’ to the 2 year mark of your death. I still, to a certain degree, pay attention to the markers prior to your death. Well, maybe not to a certain degree – I completely pay attention to them. Two years ago we were at the Hillsboro Air Show, standing out on the tarmac, you holding Lido pointing at the airplanes and jets flying overhead capturing memories with your son. Me holding my camera pointing it towards those flying, capturing their moments in the air, capturing your moments with your son. It would be a month later that you were gone.

I’ll save my thoughts regarding this second year for a later time because right now, I want to talk to you about what happened yesterday. I want to talk to you about flying. I want to talk to you about what it means to be a pilot.

I posted yesterday about this mainly, in all honesty because I didn’t have anyone to come home to talk to, to cry with, to hold me, to reassure me. Writing is my outlet. My own way of filling that gap. My computer has become my “Wilson”. In order to process what I saw I needed to write. I, especially needed to write about the passion that comes from flying, from being a pilot. It is hard to tap into that since I am not a pilot but having pursued this dream with you, like I said yesterday, I’ve tasted only a small portion of that passion through you. I saw it in your eyes, felt it in your touch, heard it in your voice.

The pilot that died yesterday at the airshow had been doing this for many many years. He had over 23,000 hours. Something just went wrong. Again, I don’t know him but what I’ve heard is his passion was incredible and started at an early age. How wonderful is that? I see you, my darling husband, and your passion that started, really started, the moment you stepped into a helicopter – a Christmas gift from me. In that brief moment, I saw you change before my eyes. You stood a little straighter, spoke differently, had this added sparkle to your eyes. To see this in anyone is a special kind of gift. To share with thousands, like Bryan did,  like his fellow friends do at these airshows is a very great gift to all of us. I think all of us non-pilots have a bit of a spring in our step, a lightness to us, after watching passion fly before us.

With all of that, and I’m saying again, comes risk. It isn’t risk though, that stays in the forefront of a pilots mind – or the mind of those surrounding them. Risk is understood and when a tragedy strikes such as this one, well, I’m not sure that there are words to encompass each and every feeling that comes up. I can not imagine what the other pilots are feeling or thinking. If they are running solely on adrenaline right now, which I’m sure they are, or a need to still perform because ‘damn it – I’m a pilot’, or simply the fact that this is what they do. It really doesn’t matter what the reason is, it is amazing, the courage they have. It speaks volumes of pilots. All pilots.

Quite often I wonder how you would respond if I could ask you whether or not you felt that it was all worth it, if you would do it again, knowing you would die. I think that you would say that it wouldn’t be worth it, that you would give it all up to just be with me, with your son. I can hear you telling me this. I can also hear the doubt in your voice. I can hear the longing you would have. I can hear how you would not be complete. I think in the end, after hearing yourself, you would agree with me…it was worth it. It was worth it because you showed me so much, I learned so much from you. Our son will really know because of you, what it means to follow a dream and live it. He will know the risk. It was worth it because of who you became. You gave to so many people on many levels and maybe that was your purpose in your short life. If I could, would I want it all to be erased and you by my side? Yes…but I can’t change anything. Being almost 2 years out from the day you died, learning from other widows, seeing how life works on a very personal level…I love you with all of my heart, my soul -  but would you be happy? Would those around us have changed in the ways they have because of your death? Would I be the person I am today? Would your son? Believe me, everyone, there really is nothing more I could wish for than having Doug by my side and you may not understand any of this – I guess I want to look at the good, the opportunity of what can be…Bryan, the pilot who died yesterday, has given so much. Imagine how many lives have been touched by him…

And this gets me to something that I’ve been thinking about all night and most of this morning…the kids that saw this crash take place. Yes, I berated those taking video and allowing their children to walk up to the fence and watch, continue watching the wreckage. I’d like to commend those there, which I’m sure were in greater numbers than I made it out to be with my last post (forgive me), that held their children, walked them out, cried with them. Worried about how this would affect them. Worried about what to say to them…how to explain it all to them. How ever you handle this, remember the passion for flying that was a part of every fiber of this pilot. Let your children speak in their own words or actions. Reassure them. Allow them to be sad and to process all of this in their own time. Even though I tried shielding my son from seeing the actual crash, he knows what happened. He is almost three and is processing all of this in his own way. It is hard for me to see him playing with his helicopter and airplane this morning and they both ‘crashed’ in his playing. I wasn’t sure what to say but I decided I wouldn’t say anything. He is still processing all of it. You may not do the same or feel the same but for my son, for me, this is the process. Just the other day he asked when Daddy would land his helicopter from the sky…I’ve always told him that his Daddy is in the sky and watches over us…I wonder if he will ask different questions now. I do know though and this may or may not help parents out there, that I will once again make every effort to not pass on my grief, my emotions to him. They process differently from us. They see our pain but our pain does not have to be theirs. Our pain is ours but what we can pass onto our children in any time of tragedy is that it is okay to cry, to feel, to be angry, to hurt, to laugh…To help them to understand their own grief and sadness. That it is okay. You have an opportunity here with your children. Talk to them. Show them how to live life to the fullest. Show them the good that comes from tragedy. It doesn’t have to be world changing…just changing.

My dearest husband, there isn’t a moment that goes by without me thinking of you. I know that you would have given me one of your big, squeeze the breath out of you, hugs yesterday. This morning when I woke up, I felt a similar feeling that I felt upon waking up the morning after you died…the ‘what the hell is the world still doing here’ feeling. The ‘why in the hell is the sun still shining’…feeling. Believe me, it was more muted this morning but it was there. Unfortunately, there is so much here right now, those familiar feelings. All of this has certainly brought to surface, albeit in a muted form, each and every one of the feelings I had when you died. Part of me wants to go to the pilot’s family and friends and tell them that it all gets easier – but I think that they would tell me ‘We know’. After all, they’ve been in this aviation family far longer than I have, than you were. I’m sure that each and every one of them has suffered a loss of another pilot. I’m sure that I could probably learn a lot from them – from their resiliency. I think I’ve learned a lot so far even this morning – knowing that they are out there – flying. Talk about courage.

Again, my heart and my soul goes out to each and every one of them. They amaze me.

Doug – I love you and thank you. Thank you for giving me the gift of you, the gift of your passion.

Your loving wife,

In this life and the next.

A pilot died.

I, along with hundreds of people, watched as the pilot, Bryan Jensen, could not pull out of an aerobatic maneuver, crashed and was killed instantly. I was standing on the tarmac watching as I held my son. The moment I knew the pilot was not pulling out, I grabbed his head and buried him into my shoulder which meant I stood there and watched. There was a gasp of the crowd followed by complete silence.

I started shaking, taking deep breaths so as to not faint and slowly made my way over to the nearest chair. The nearest chair brought me to two Air Force pilots and I asked them if I could sit down, they were visibly shaken as well. I sat for quite a while before making it back over to friends and fellow pilots at the show. As I made my way to their tent, a lot of people were leaving but as I glanced up, I couldn’t quite believe the amount of people standing taking pictures, allowing their children to stand there and watch. I can give people some leeway because I know there was no way I could go to my car and leave…I still needed to throw up. But to take pictures?

This is a person. Their family and friends were there. Their aviation family was there. Put your fucking cameras away and go home.

This is a person.

*****

A friend of Doug’s was there. A pilot who recently moved here to fly. He was at Hillsboro when Doug died. He worked with Doug. Before I could get to him, another person, Johnny Rowlands, came up to me to ask if I was okay and let me cry on his shoulder. It all was just too close to home. To, a month to the day close to home. After I composed myself I went up to my friend, Doug’s friend, he gave me a hug I really needed and then called his wife to say he loved her.

That’s what all of you people taking pictures should have been doing. You just saw how life can be whisked away in a moment – literally right before your eyes. Shame on you.

*****

Fuck.

*****

What I saw today is so close to what happened to Doug…the end portion. The falling straight down and impacting the ground and an explosion. I didn’t see Doug’s crash but this would have been similar. No debris trail. Just down.

It was a couple months after Doug’s crash when I started having panic attacks and would be unable to walk or stand up. I would get ‘glimpses’ of the crash on my way up the stairs and would have to sit down and eventually crawl my way to my bed and wait for it to pass. I’m wondering what this will do.

*****

I was asked not too long ago, in preparing to be interviewed by an aviation magazine, why I would continue to be a part of the very community that ‘took’ my husband’s life. Today, as I was talking to Johnny, he asked me if I was sure I wanted to be a part of all of this – to continue to be in this aviation world. We had talked about this a year ago when I first met him. A long talk. A nice heart to heart. It’s a question that obviously pops up over and over.

After today, after seeing a pilot’s life end in front of my eyes, of being reminded of my own tragedy in a most profound way, I still say I will be in this aviation community, this family, as long as I live.

Why?

Because it is where dreams soar.

It is where, on your first solo, you scream in the cockpit “I’m flying this thing by myself!!!!”

It is where freedom lives, where you can taste it, smell it, feel it.

It is where I could sit and completely relax and be at complete awe and only catch a glimpse of what Doug had every day.

I stay

because life is risk.

Life could end at any given moment. So why not do something with it?

*****

I’m not a pilot. I’ve only been able to catch glimpses of the sheer awesomeness that pilots must feel. But the taste that I’ve had, I will continue to have so I will not run away. Again, life is risk and these pilots understand that there is risk. There will always be risk. In my case, the risk that I take is seeing something like what happened today, or being constantly reminded of Doug’s crash every time I work on foundation stuff, or seeing my husband’s reflection in my son, or being asked if Daddy has landed his helicopter yet…my risk is mental. I’m willing to risk it. I’m willing to help others achieve their dream because I love the passion that comes out of living a dream.

So I’m not going anywhere.

*****

It has been 1 year and 11 months to the day where I have felt my life being ripped from me. My existence gone. My future ended. My heart, my soul, goes out to Bryan’s family and friends and fellow pilots and my thoughts will be with them as they go through this rollercoaster of emotions. I don’t fear for them because aviators are a resilient bunch, as they should be. I hope that they keep, very close to their heart and on the surface, the reason why they became pilots -  it is a shared reason. And I’m sure Bryan, though I don’t know him, would want them to keep flying. My love goes out to them.

*****

Now go… and remember that life is short. You better live the fuck out of it!

I’ve always said that I look back on our lives with no regret. For the most part I do – except for one little thing – not realizing that our life was there when we were living it there. That is my one regret. One big regret.

Even with that regret, this trip was good in many ways and quite hard in many ways. I’ve found it, at times, hard to tell the stories about Daddy because anything that I point out here or tell him about that happened here with his Dad doesn’t include him. It was just Doug and I. No Lido here. No memories of us as a family here.

Out there though, that is where our memories as a family are resting. The Dutch Bros. Coffee drive-thru that we would go out of our way for before we headed to the coast. The kite pirate where we bought all of our kites. The airport. The parks. The beaches. The roads…All the roads out there lead to a memory of us as a family. Out there.

Here, it was a life lived what seems so long ago, just the two of us. Doug and I. And now this life, Lido and I. In a town, a city, where both of us as grew up in and have our closest friends in – of all things, it doesn’t include memories of us as a family.

My heart aches and I feel the pain of losing him all over again…

Happy Father’s Day. Of course, like with any other day, I would like for you to be here in the flesh to enjoy this day and I hope you are looking down on us and know how much you are loved.

I remember when I found out I was pregnant – New Year’s Day. I came down to you and showed you the stick and your reaction wasn’t quite what I expected. You didn’t want to believe it, as we had so many disappointments trying to get pregnant, and wanted no excitement until we went to the Dr. to confirm. It was the first time that I saw how hard all of this had been on you over the years. The cycle of  disappointment, elation and disappointment. I remember sitting on your lap and wrapping my arms around you and whispering in your ear ‘baby, this time, I know it is fine. I can feel it’. I look back on that moment and I am not sure if I ever told you how much I loved you for the fact that you never let on how much you were going through internally. You were my rock through all of this and said nothing of your own pain. You listened to mine over and over again, held me and told me it would happen. This was you and I am so very grateful and my heart is filled with my love for you.

I think that I did finally convince you to get excited that night but it took a lot of effort. On New Year’s Day – you learned that you were going to be a Dad.

And what a great Dad you were. You were so completely excited and wrapped up in your son’s life. You talked to him all throughout the pregnancy and the first moment I started to feel him wiggle around in my belly – you were there talking to him and he responded and you could get my belly to look quite alien because he would follow your voice…I spent many an evening being completely lop-sided…

I really don’t know what else to say, other than we miss you terribly and will love you forever.

Happy Father’s Day babe.

I love you.

In this life and the next.

September 16 – Your Father’s Day.