Little White Plane

10-14-12         

Dear diary,

My dad died yesterday. His plane went down while I was at school and I didn’t even know about it until last night. I went the whole day not knowing that my world was falling apart. When I got home, and Jasper told me, I didn’t believe him. But it’s true. I saw the plane on the news. I can’t believe that this is real. Grandma and grandpa are getting here tomorrow.

Mom told me that I need to write about this, so I don’t forget anything. But I’ve been staring at this stupid page for hours and I don’t know what else to say. 

10-27-12

Dear diary,

School sucked today. I had to present my greenhouse project and by the end I was literally fighting back tears. As soon as we got done, I went to the bathroom and bawled. I’m pretty sure someone heard me because Mrs. Tobias came in to talk to me. It was embarrassing. She was nice and all, but she didn’t know what she was saying. No one does. They pretend like they get it, but they don’t. I don’t want to do this anymore. This just hurts so stinking bad. Why did this become my life? I mean, I feel like this doesn’t happen to people like me. This only happens in movies, or to people from towns I've never heard of before. Every day I feel like I am walking through quicksand. I am sinking, and one day, I fear that I will just drown.

I don’t really know what set me off today. Probably the greenhouse project. Dad would have thought it was a really cool idea. I feel like everyone around me, all my friends and co-workers are all just living life as if everything is normal. It’s only been a week since the funeral and it’s like they’ve all forgotten. I feel so damn alone. I’m gaining weight and my hair is falling out. I know how petty that sounds. I know better than anyone that there are far worse things in life than thinning hair, but I just feel so angry. I didn’t ask for this. I mean, losing him is bad enough, but no one told me about how many repercussions would follow. It’s like every bad thing that happens to me somehow relates back to losing him. I start off crying because my hair is thinning, or because I got a bad grade- something insignificant like that. But in the end the real reason I cry is because I just miss him. I didn’t know before that your heart could physically hurt from crying. It does.

8-16-13

Dear diary,

I don’t know why but I kind of feel a sense of urgency to write about what happened that day. McKenna dragged me out of bed this morning and took me out for breakfast. At first, I was annoyed, but I am glad she did it. She’s a good friend. It felt good to talk about what happened. Heck, it felt pretty good to talk about normal teenage things too. Mostly, she just listened to me. We both cried, like, a lot. It helped me more than I thought it would. But I also realized that there are things that I'm already starting to forget, and I don’t want to lose any details so…here goes.

It was the most normal day. Dad got me up for school in the usual way, by tickling my feet. They always ended up poking out of the covers by morning. And dad, being dad, just couldn’t resist such an easy target, I guess. I got up, got dressed, toasted a bagel and walked out the door. If I was following my usual routine, I would have said something like, “Bye dad, love you.” But I can’t remember if I did or not. That bothers me a lot, the fact that I can’t remember what my last words to him were. I do remember one thing that happened in my third hour class that day though. Taylor and I were working on the beginning stages of our project. It was all hypothetical, but we were to make plans for a “million-dollar idea” that would promote healthy living, and then present it to the class. Our idea was to build a greenhouse for the school to support healthy eating and to teach gardening skills. We were pretty excited about it. At some point there was a question about wood that neither of us knew the answer to. Dad worked in construction. He knew wood. I made a mental note to ask him about it when I got home from school. I was excited to tell him about this project because it was right up his alley. I am sad that I will never get the chance. All these “what-could-have-beens” are the literal worst. Anyways, after school I went to work. It was a slow day in the library. I drove home in the rain and I remember my music perfectly matched the mood outside. It was as if the darkness was already starting to settle in. When I got home, Jas met me at the door. His eyes were red and puffy. My heart sank because Jasper never cries. I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. It didn’t really sink in until I turned on the news and saw the little white plane, crumpled in the middle of a field, with the headlines flashing beneath:

Colorado Man Killed in Northern Oklahoma Plane Crash.

I called Alice, our family friend. She came right over and held me while I sobbed. She stayed there, just holding me until exhaustion pulled me under. I don’t think mom slept at all that night. The next morning, I started getting messages from everyone. News spreads fast. I put my phone under my pillow and left it there for days. I couldn’t face any of it right then. Those messages made it more and more real and I didn’t want to believe that this nightmare was my reality. 

A few days later, we went to the mortuary to identify the body. What I learned that day is that humans have an innate ability to hope. The mind and the heart will come up with any explanation, even when the proof is staring you in the face, to prove that it's just not true. I even found myself imagining that his body was made of wax and that it was just a sick joke. But it wasn’t. We buried him two days later. 

I’d like to say that after a year it has gotten easier to cope- and in some ways it has. I’ve been seeing a grief counselor. Her name is Anne. Bless her. She has given me closure and helped me to believe that I’m actually a normal human and that my feelings make sense. But there are still days where it just kind of hits me all over again.

I think I’m going to go and take a shower now. I’ve found that it’s the best place to cry.

4-2-20

Dear diary,

Wow. A whole lot has happened since that day. I have had a lot of adventures and filled many other books with them.

I found this journal in a box that has been packed away since the move. I have to admit I was happy and sad to see it. Happy that these things I wrote all those years ago are safe and recorded, but sad to relive them again. Almost 8 years have passed, and I still think of him when I see an airplane fly by.

I don’t know why I am writing this right now. Perhaps because I know that someday someone is going to find this book. Maybe my great grandchild, and I want them to know that not all of life is depressing and bad. Losing dad was absolute hell. I can’t deny that. And I sure as hell would never want to go through it again. But the opposite of hell is bliss and I have known both and everything between the two. Life hurts. Bad. But I have known too much joy to believe that life is only pain. How those two opposites can coexist is beyond me, but I can tell you that they do. Since October 13^th, 2012, I have graduated high school, two years of college, dropped out, and been in a car accident. On top of that, I have worked at 9 different jobs, ranging from shelving books to co-managing a self-started business, traveled to 7 different countries, gone through 5 boyfriends, 4 breakups, and one engagement (who just so happens to be my business partner). My wedding is this Friday. I am more than excited to spend my life with James. He completes me, takes care of me, and I feel safe and happy with him. There are some bittersweet things about this wedding though. I know I am going to feel a hole where my dad should be. I won’t get the father daughter dance I always dreamed of. He won’t be standing up to toast us with dad jokes and happy tears. What’s more, my babies won’t get to meet their grandpa. They won’t get the chance to look into his smiling eyes and watch how the corners crinkle when he laughs. That hurts. But you know what? I’m glad it hurts. It proves to my numb heart that it’s still working. It proves that those 16 years I got with my daddy were real. And to me, that’s worth the pain that came from losing him. Life is worth living my dear, pain and all.