Note: This is 100% fiction.
As a boy, my dad would sit in the middle of his father’s field and watch the airplanes fly by. No matter how many times his father had told him how dangerous it was to watch the airplanes, he did it anyway.
At seventeen, he married the love of his life. At eighteen, he joined the air force. He wanted to engineer planes and pilot them. So he did. He graduated at the top of his class and went on to become an outstanding engineer.
When it was time, they sent him out off to a ship where his tasks were to test, repair, maintain, and prepare the planes. My mom never expected much other than to have dad home safe. She understood the risks of having her husband off to war while raising a daughter on her own but nevertheless, she’d never expect two officers to arrive at her door just less than a year after his first deployment.
I was just two. I remember my mom just broke down crying after the officers left and she continued for days. I will never forget it.
My dad had just died on a test run.
A Response for Sunday Photo Fiction.
Note: Yes, test run. There are more deaths in airplane test runs than actual plane crashes.