Mark. Mark is my brother. Lots of people have brothers. Lots of people lose brothers in sad & tragic circumstances. I am not unusual. It just bugs me how quickly the dead are forgotten. I know it can't be helped. I know life's like that & practically I still find it almost impossible to talk about.
There are the facts. Mark was an ag pilot. He loved to fly; he loved it more than anything after his family. He did low level flying as a crop duster ~ 20 feet or so above the ground. Yes, it was a risky profession. Yes, we all knew the risks but Mark was a good pilot. He was a safe pilot. He had a wife & kid he meant to come home to each & every time he flew.
We may never know what caused the accident. There are things that don't add up. It doesn't matter. Mark had a full load of jet fuel when his plane hit the ground. It exploded on impact.
My mother is devestated. It has affected her deeply in ways that losing my father didn't. His death is like a festering sore that faith & belief can do nothing just yet to relieve. I do not care how much his death has impacted others for Christ ~ & it has. Mark should be irritatingly alive & seeing Cass, talkative, enthusiastic, wading wholesale into all that life can offer her I am painfully reminded of how like Mark my daughter is. I cherish my sons with their deep hunger for all life can offer them more deeply. Life is fragile. We all know they are not invincible.
We live under a flight path. The big jets are high & silent but the light aircraft, noisy & so much lower, are a painful reminder of Mark buzzing the house as he headed north, waggling his wingtips in a friendly hello, more often then not his son strapped in the seat behind him. Every time we hear an engine sputter now our breath catches. Perhaps, in time, we will no longer hear them again.
2 comments:
As I am new to your blog, I don't know if this has just happened or did your brother pass away some time ago? Either way, I am sorry for your loss.
Just a couple of months ago, (early December) my mother called me to tell me that my 51 year old stepbrother had died, no warning, no nothing! I was stunned. My stepfather is just like my daddy and I knew that he was broken inside.
I booked a flight right away so I could be with my Mom & Pop. As I sat on the tarmac at Dallas/Ft Worth Airport, I never wanted to cut & run from something so bad as I did this trip! I knew as soon as we took off it would become real for me.
I've had trials and struggles in my life but nothing compares to helping your parents bury a child. The pain is almost unbearable and it's horrible to see your parents grieving.
We have the assurance that he is with Christ but until that time when Pop can see him again, he misses him SO very much.
I love how Jesus doesn't tell us, not to grieve, he tells us "not to grieve as those who have no hope".
If it weren't for hope, the promise of something better tomorrow, how would we get by today?
Connie
That is SO creepy! My brother JR passed away on Dec. 8th, 2006!!!
Connie
Post a Comment