32-year Anniversary

Thirty-two years ago today my brother Don was killed in a commercial airline crash. He was on a PSA (Pacific Southwest Airlines) flight from Sacramento to San Diego when the 727 collided with a one-engine Cessna whose pilot was practicing instrument landings. The plane plunged to earth in the North Park residential area killing all passengers aboard the plane and another 10 persons on the ground in what was (at that time) the worst disaster in U.S. aviation history.

He was such a great guy! (I would use multiple exclamation points, but I heard on the radio today that one exclamation point is always enough). He was 42 years old, and with each year I realize more how young that was and how much of this life he missed. He had three sons and two daughters. I think of all the priesthood ordinations he missed, the eagle courts of honor, the missionary farewells (and homecomings), the graduations from high school and college, the weddings, the birth of dozens of grandchildren, the family reunions, the wedding anniversaries, the family vacations. He would be so proud of his family, and so am I!

My sister-in-law once told me that when the accident happened the Lord mercifully wrapped her in a protective cocoon which shielded her from the trauma of his death. She never re-lived it, never dreamed about it, never questioned how it happened or what it may have been like. I wish I had been privy to a blessing like that. I see pictures of that plane coming down with fire streaming from it. I wonder which seat was his. I wonder who he was sitting by, and what he thought about during that 3,000 foot ride down. I'm so grateful for all that the gospel teaches us about death and life after life. Although there may be lots to tell Don about the things he has missed here, I wonder what he will be able to tell us about what he has been doing for 32 years.