Stirrings : Choosing To Live

Written By Jen
I grew up just outside of a small hometown airport.  The sound of planes coming in for landing was the sound of home for me.  I never realized the comfort that sound brought to me.  Home to me is the smell in a breeze, the light crisp rocky mountain air that whisks across my face, and the clear shot of the purple mountain majesty out my front door.  All of these things let me know that I am at home.  I would have never guessed that even a sound could make me feel at home.

My mom and I went out to a sweet Greek restaurant the day we got word that my dad was never coming home.  It seemed every plane buzzing overhead was a reminder of his passion for flying.   He loved to fly.   As we sat on the patio, looking at a beautiful rocky mountain sunset, there was comfort and sorrow in that sound of home.  My mom reminisced of how many times she took off by his side and flew over those mountains.  They went on a million adventures together.

People are often curious if this has given me a fear of flying.  The answer is “no”.  It was drilled into my head that one is more likely to die in a car accident or even by lightening than in a plane crash.  But I did cry the first time I took off after my father passed away.  My daughter and I flew to Connecticut to visit one of my best friends.  I was super stressed with my photography business and I needed a break, a mini retreat.  The night before we left, just two months after my dad’s plane crash, my daughter wept wanting reassurance.  “Are you sure we won’t crash mom?”  As I was taught I said, “No, it is unlikely.  Are you afraid to drive in a car?” She replied with a no.  I explained, “You are more likely to die in a car crash than in a plane crash.”  Consoling my child to think “rationally”, when she has just witnessed how a plane crash rocked her mom’s world for the past few months, was HARD.  I stayed strong and I cried later.  As we took off we prayed and enjoyed the view that inspired many flights for my father.  It reminded me of the many trips where he was my pilot. I could only smile and embrace his passion for flying and adventure.

That night we lounged around and talked with our Connecticut friends.  I shared with them my daughter’s fears and how we had to get back on the horse that just bucked our family and sent us into a dive.  We were received with loving arms and sweet sighs of understanding.  I write this now just a mile from a familiar runway, as planes take off and land, I am reminded of a man who lived.  His passion for adventure, flight, and discovery remains in the hearts of many and I am comforted by what a wonderful life he lived.

What are your passions?  I admire a man who, with wisdom, embraced adventure and passion.

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Comments

  1. Rebecca says:

    Jen,

    I am truly enjoying your writing and reminiscing of your dad. He is not to be forgotten.

  2. Thanks so much Jen for sharing your heart and your journey. I love reading these posts and you write so well and share your love for your dad in such an amazing way. Thanks for your openness!

  3. he sure was an amazing man! I am one of the lucky ones that got to spend a lot of time with him and learn so much from him! He will definitely never ever be forgotten. Love you

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