Feeling of Falling

A Feeling of Falling

My heart is pounding so hard it is all I can hear, the tingling sensation in my face is overwhelming as I slowly climb each step, stair by stair. Sadness, pain and loss have filled the air, and with each sluggish step comes an increased urge to vomit. I grab the railing to assist my weakening leg muscles, but it is no use. My legs are trying to protect me from the news that awaits my attention at the top of these stairs. Hundreds of scenarios are running through my head but I keep coming back to one, the worst one of all. As I reach the top of the stairs, my eyes meet with the silent crowd in the living room, all of which are staring back at me. At this moment I feel paralyzed. I closely examine the tear-filled eyes in the room, all of which exude a detrimental blow. I can sense the hesitation as to who is going to unload the wave of hurt, pain and sadness onto this 17 year old boy standing before them. I don’t want to hear it, I already know. Out of all the faces in the room, my grandfather’s says the most. Peggy, my dads fiancé stands up and tries to gather the words that she doesn’t want to have to say, the words she doesn’t want to be true “It’s your dad.”

I don’t look up to many people, but to me my father is an unstoppable super hero. A veteran Portland officer with the Drug and Vice division by day and a Senior Master Sergeant in the Air force by night. This is a pair of shoes that may be impossible to fill, a mountain of achievement that can only be attempted with the right tools and knowledge. If what you give is what you get in return it would explain why my father is so highly respected and loved by those around him.

My parents divorced when I was 15 and against the sobbing and begging of my mother I chose to move in with my father. A decision she would later come to respect. With my two brothers living at my moms, I had my father all to myself. Something I’d never had before and a moment I would learn to cherish for the rest of my life. My father quickly became my best friend. “It scares me how much you are just like me” he would always say. These words would always bring a bright smile to my face. I’ve always felt a close connection with my father, a bond that would only grow stronger over the next two yrs.

Today started as ordinary as any other. “Hey dad can I borrow the BMW for school today?” I ask.”Can you be back by 12:30?” he asks. “No problem” I reply, leaving out that I am going to have skip my last class to make it back by then. My father and his fellow crewman have a routine mission today, flying their C-130 “The Harley of Airplanes” as my dad would call it, down to San Diego California and back for routine water rescue training. Something I had grown used to over the years of my childhood. Nonetheless I still worry about him flying but flying is what he loves to do. I arrived back home sometime around 12:30ish and my father commends my prompt arrival. I feel this may be a good time to let him know that I got pulled over for speeding on my way home and got a ticket. He shakes his head with a smile, and again reminds me of how much I am like him. “We’ll take care of it when I get home” he says. Giving him the keys to the car I also give him a hug and tell him that I love him, “I love you too” he replies, neither of us knowing that these will be the last words we ever exchange. This will be the last time I see my father. I spend the remainder of my day hanging out with some friends and when I arrive back at home that evening I get a nauseating feeling in my stomach.

A long line of cars stretches down my driveway to the street. I can see shadows moving behind the drawn, back-lit shades of my upstairs window. Something is wrong. I am hesitant to turn the handle and go inside. I muster up all the courage I can gather and turn the handle. The door slowly creaks open and exposes the mountain of stairs leading to my destination – where I will soon learn of my father’s death. A scenario that will forever imprint itself deep into my mind, replaying itself at random, reminding me that it is there, and that it really happened.

84 miles into flight, my father’s plane was showing signs of electrical failure. Only moments later the planes 4 engines had failed, with no way to restart them again in mid-flight. The plain began it’s eerie, silent, 16 minute descent at 200 miles per hour towards the ocean below. The crew went through their emergency steps to no avail. The only course of action was to try an land the plane in the ocean, in the dark, without power. Hours later, rescue crews found a single life, floating amongst the scattered debris once known as King 56. It was not my father. 10 of the 11 crewman lost their lives that night. That’s 9 more families who lost a brother, a son, a husband and a father. The crewmen of King 56 were not alone in their feeling of falling.