Till Monday

Long time between blogs. Horrible time between blogs. This is the nightmare I keep in the back of my mind and it came true for someone else. I still can't wrap my head completely around this. But I will have to come Monday morning.

I work in the clinic on base. My office is located right beside the Paramedic Ambulance Service (PAS). I don't hear them very much. I do hear the "squawks" go off. "Squawks" are the calls for help that come in. They are loud, but ususally short in duration. Wednesday, there were none.

I didn't even know there was an emergency until my computer alarm went off. It means that there will be a very important message coming across the screen to read. They usually come across with the words, "Exercise, Exercise, Exercise." This message was missing those words, so it was real world. It said an F-22 had crashed. That was it. No pilot status. Nothing.

Back to the PAS guys, I usually hear the inflight emergencies. How many souls aboard, type of aircraft, etc. This time, nothing. I'm thinking if I didn't hear anything, everything is okay, right? 45 minutes pass and I call my husband to see if he's heard anything out at his range. He's heard nothing but is concerned about the time that has passed. Michael says, "This is bad, Dee Dee. They should have heard something by now." I keep making excuses. Maybe this reason, or maybe that reason. Michael is the realist.

Four hours pass. It's final, there is a fatality. I'm sure Michael will be familiar with the pilot. He knows many of them over there. He either flew with them or they were his students. In my mind, it's a young pilot, probably with a family. Truly a tragedy, a great loss. His poor family.

I'm driving on the 14 and I'm about to turn off onto the exit I need. I'm thinking there is only one person I know over there. But he's not active duty; he's retired and a civvie pilot. Surely, it can't be him. I'll ask my son, see if his son was at school.

I come home, walk in the door. I ask Alex, "Was so and so at school today?" He tells me he was. I ask him, "All day?" He tells me yes, so it can't be his father. He would have been pulled out of school.

I'm lying on my bed and I hear my son calling for me all over the house. "Mom!! It was his dad."

The world has now stopped. It can't be! No! No way! This is all rumor, no press release. I call one of the majors I work with. I know she knows. She may not be able to tell me the name, but she can tell me "yes" or "no." I keep waiting for her call. During this time, my oldest calls and asks me what's going on. KTLA has just broken the news. It's official. It was his dad.

I shriek, scream, and cry. I call out to God. My youngest has tears in his eyes. They phone starts ringing. No one wants to call the wife, but they call me, since I'm here and I may know what happened. I still cannot believe this. My friend has lost her husband. Her children have lost their father. The high school has lost a supportive soccer dad.

Since Wednesday, she has had much support (I've checked and made sure). E-mail with info. on the memorial service came out today. It's slated for Monday morning.

I will be there on Monday morning with my husband and son. We will be there to show our support for this family, this friend. I wonder what kind of service will be performed. I'm slightly afraid of Monday, but I have to go; I must. It's part of the obligation of the sorority I belong to. Officer's Wife, Fighter Pilot's Wife. I have to go and support my sister.

I so miss her husband. For her, but for us as well. A good man, husband, and father. An easy man to get along with, lighthearted.

Till Monday, my friend.