Author’s Note: This night finds my heart and head in a lonesome place, a place I don't care to visit too often, yet it allows me to write and get some of the angry/hurt feeling of yesterdays vented. So please bear with me. I present this for your consideration...
THE LAST FLIGHT
We were flying thru the mist, a thick mist. It curled around the windshields like smoky fingers. Visibility was close to zero. We couldn't land out helicopter, we were in Indian country; we had to fly it out. The pilots were watching the instruments and we were watching also, for signs of anything obstructing our flight path.
The pilots were tense, talking softly over the whopping of the blades, the blades sounding loudly in the thick mist, like a train whistle on a rainy night. The gunner said he thought he saw some trees; I did also, on the mountain side. Keying in the microphones, we told the pilots, "trees at 3 and 9 o'clock".
Then it felt like we passed thru a cold front. Funny thing, that stormy day we thought we heard voices thru the mist. It sounded like people talking, and, of all things, mothers crying. Almost like ghost, so full of sadness and grief, it made the heart heavy. Then we popped into sunshine so bright, so clear, and clean, it erased all feeling that were dark, sad, or negative. It was like a power had come over us, uplifting us; even the blades sang in harmony.
Each of us looked around; each seeing a different view. Each of us saw a graveyard peopled by folks we knew... there were our mothers crying next to our red eyed dads.
We circled over, doing 180s, waving and calling out to our loved ones. They couldn't hear us; perhaps it was the whopping of the blades, perhaps not. We flew in the bright sunshine, warm, basking, peaceful, and full of the smells of flowers and peace. Yet, as we looked, rain clouds and sorrow covered the grave yards. How could this be, we asked over the intercom? We flew closer and closer. We saw the reason – for our names were on the tombstones.
Yet, still we called out to them... we are here... we are here, looking over you. As the sun shone and the flowers proudly raised there heads to us, we circled in warm brotherhood, then saw many more helicopters off in the distance, a flight of angels, or was it helicopters? They were waving and smiling, welcoming us home.