June 27th, 1969

A Friday, a plane crash, a phone call, all it took for your whole world to shatter. You never got to tell them how you’d follow in his footsteps in his wing span You never got to tell him that you only wished to follow in that Cessna Skylane one three-pronged tragedy became the axis around which the rest of your stories would turn one sorrowful night changed who you were forever and by the time I came along all your fire ferocity, passion had crashed into electric wire erupted into flames had been decapitated and so it is left to me to honor your mother, and your brother in ways you never taught me but I learned anyway. And I will ignore the memory of Grandpa George, because he crashed that damn plane on purpose… or did he?