It Never Gets Easier

      Fifty-three years ago, on September 17th, life changed dramatically for me. I was only seven years old when my father's plane went down just three miles short of the runway in Ubon, Thailand. He was flying missions for the United States Air Force in Vietnam.  I will never forget that knock on the door and the two Air Force officers in their dress blues at our front door. Sometimes I still dream about it. For the longest time, I wondered why I was always in a kind of funk around this time of year.  As I did more research into my father's death, the reason became clearer in lots of ways and muddier in others.

     Clearer because I now knew why I am always in a funk this time of year. It is the anniversary of the death of my father.  While that was such a long time ago, I can still remember how it affected me. I remember hiding under the kitchen table, refusing to go to school, because, in my seven year-old brain, my dad died when I was in school and if I go to school, my mom could die, too.  I remember going to his graveside services on Long Island, New York.  I would still like to visit there some time.  The family name died with him overseas, as my step-dad adopted us a few years later.

     Muddier because, when his plane went down, he was flying a fighter jet, which was weird because his training was in flying B-52 Bombers.  Why was he flying a fighter jet?  No one knows. All they know is that he was coming in too low and his co-pilot told him to pull up. He did not and was pinned beneath the wreckage. They say that he died instantly. Did his plane flip? How was it that he ended up under the wreckage? His co-pilot survived the crash, by some miracle.  I did receive a detailed email about that night from him, years later, as I was doing my research.  God bless him. He'd only been in Vietnam three months and had never flown with my father.

     Don't get me wrong! I had the most amazing life, growing up on the farm in Nebraska!  I am forever grateful for the life and the family and friends that I have.  Still, sometimes I find myself wondering how different my life might have been, had my father lived.