It has been a year for surprises, not all of them good. Our journeys around the sun are jolted from time to time. We go on but in a slightly different orbit. We do not "get past" the shock; things are different, our frame of reference re-framed.
The most recent jolt was the loss of two of our local pilots in the crash of a light airplane; who could have foreseen this? Two Flight Instructors, high time pilots, one of whom was conducting a Flight Review for the other. The preliminary report reads clinically, as it should. Just the facts. The experimental aircraft's airframe was built according to spec; no construction anomalies noted. A condition inspection was recently performed. The lab in Tennessee that inspected the airframe is very thorough. The final report may or may not find a cause. That last bit troubles a lot of people; our nature is we want to find a cause, a reason two pilots were lost, and that leads to conjecture. The only answer is to wait and see what the investigators find.
Closer to home, two families, friends of mine, are grieving the unexpected loss of daughters, bright, vibrant young women. The world stands still when the news comes, never quite the same again. A parent does not "get past" something like that, no matter how well-meaning friends may express it. I cannot imagine the oxygen being pulled from my life like that. I hope by just being there for them I can shore up their foundations in some small way.
On a much brighter note, because I am searching for one just now, I flew this morning into a beautiful sky. The low, morning clouds were thin and fast disappearing; the air still and smooth, a perfect morning for flying through the valleys that surround my mountain home.
I hang my hat on the memory of flights like that to remind me of all that is right with the world, and I put that ragged old hat back on my head to a symphony of gratitude for the privilege and the gift of flying.
