Day of Flight

Dearest Rachel –


It’s been three months, now. Three months since you took your Day of Flight.

I never even saw your halo flicker beforehand

In that span of time, the snow has melted, the trees and daffodils have flowered and shed their petals, and the grass has grown.

Entire rooms of carpeting have been exposed, as the piles of… stuff left behind have been cleared away like so much snow after a blizzard.

Friends have come over, and we have met elsewhere with others, as Daniel and I try to reintegrate ourselves back into society after a years’ imprisonment and three months without our closest friend by far.

Chompers is perhaps the least changed of all of us, although having been shorn and clipped yesterday, he’s his usual unrecognizable self after having the better part of six months’ growth pruned away. Perhaps he’ll get better purchase on surfaces with his nails trimmed – although I wouldn’t bet on it.

I’ve walked the breadth of our village from east to west and back, setting the car aside on my way to the folks’ to put in a few hours of work on the computers there. I’ve still not committed myself to run the Marathon, but word has gone out, and I may well have put myself in a corner already. In any event, I will be getting suitable shoes shortly – maybe later this afternoon, before the girls come over?

I’ve taken the liberty of commandeering your Facebook page, like I said I might do some time back, to inform your friends far and wide of your departure – although I expect most of them are already well aware. Granted, you didn’t post much there, so your silence would not have meant much to them, but most are close enough – both physically and in spirit – to have learned about what happened already.

Thus far, I have gone through perhaps a whole day’s worth of footage – a full twenty-four hours worth – from various vacations and birthdays and such that we filmed on the camcorder back in the early days of the millennium. I truly regret that you never got a chance to see once again the things that I have been able to see.

But I’ll be showing Ellen and Erin tonight some of the clips from the trip to DisneyWorld that we brought Ellen with on. Obviously, we won’t be able to see everything in one night, or even a month of Friday nights (especially when they’re only over every other week), but at least it’s something. And while I lament the fact that I was pointing the camcorder elsewhere for far too much of the time, you’re still there, as are Ellen and Daniel: there’s still something to remember each of us all by.

Although, on the subject of images to remember by, I found this clip from our first trip to London. We were at Covent Garden, and you spotted these trampoline rides, where they attach you to bungee cords, and… you know what? There’s no point in describing it; I’m just going to embed the clip here. I’d sent it to your Facebook friends already, but just in case someone comes here from somewhere else, here it is:

I know we did a fair amount of shopping in London, dear, and Daniel, in particular, developed a fondness for Cornish pasties. But to be able to see you once again like this, joyfully trying something new, something thrilling – the way I think you would truly want to be remembered being and doing – I want to say these were the best five quid I’ve ever spent.

Maybe the best anyone’s ever spent.

I know you have no need of trampolines or bungee cords anymore, but I hope you’re enjoying your flight these days. Just… every so often, when you think about it… have a look down here at this pale blue dot, and remember us, too.

Published by

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

5 thoughts on “Day of Flight

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: