bear with this post it is kind of a flow of thoughts that I had hoped to turn into a story, for now Ill just post here in its very rough form....
The airplane ride from California to New York was like no other. In some way he stood in this hybrid space. Suspended over the interior of the US, no longer in California, not yet in New York there was still the potential that this was a false alarm, there was no room for reality at 30,000 feet. Instead he sat and wondered. Do any of these people know. Does anyone on this plane have a clue? To them I look like just some guy going back to New York. Little do they know that I have just suffered an immeasurable loss, my life though normal at this suspended moment would forever be different once I stepped off that plane. No one prepares you for the day when you have to bury a parent. No one prepares you for how it feels to be flying home, and yet knowing home will never be the same. There are no words to measure the time it takes to go somewhere when you are already there and never will be there at the same time. And this is how he felt. He knew what awaited him upon disembarking from the plane, but here amidst the clouds one was left to wonder if maybe upon landing things had changed, there had been a mix up, something anything. There was not a rational thought running through his head, and he knew this, but hope overrides rationality any day. In stead he dosed off, stared, contemplated, did anything he could to in order to fill this 6 hour trip with something.
Stepping off the plane the cold New York air hit him hard. It took his breath away and it somehow felt that the cold air was a warning. Go back it said, get back on the plane and pretend this never happened, there is nothing here to see. Pressing on he walked the cold corridor from the plane to the baggage claim, anxious, nervous, unready. Those last few steps, he saw the revolving doors and he saw the face of man unready to give the sort of explanations and condolences he had to. He saw the face of a man that also seemed to wish he would go back so that he would not have to see his sons heart break. He saw the face of a man who knew that he could no longer protect his son, that he would have to see his son hurt, he would have to let this pain take him and have him. He had never seen his fathers face like that before. The normal airport smile, the normal bright eyes. But no, those eyes were filled with the smooth film of pre tears, the head sunk as if trying to shoulder the pain for both of them. And then slowly as he emerged from the doors, the embrace. They both sort of fell into each other, lost for words, they did what came natural and hugged. In that hug each knew there was a pain beyond words, the cold embrace said more then they could ever say. His fathers embrace tried to apologize, it tried to make him understand, it tried one last time to protect and foster. The awkward small chat quickly passed as they stood watching each and every bag go by. Another cold walk to the car and then it was something he would never forget. For lack of words, for lack of knowing what else to do his father handed him the paper.
“Its right there he said” pointing to the small article at the bottom of the page of the Newsday that gave a brief and very sterile definition of the disaster. And at that moment it hit him. Just as the black type from the newspaper stained his hands, the cold reality of it all stuck to him as well. There was no more in between, no more wondering, there it was in cold black print. The beautiful life of a mother summed up in those few words.. “head on” “collision” “9:10” “December 9th” “fatal”. With those words he lost all hope, and it became clear that he was indeed going to have to face this. There was no mistake. This was no dream. This was cold hard reality. Welcome to the real world it whispered. He was lost. He was confused. He turned on the radio and looked at the morning sky. You have been gone 1 day already he thought into the air. And already it feels like too long.
