I would respond but I can't type with a lump that big in my throat...

Thanks for sharing that.

Shawn
"GKgloc" wrote in message
...
Hi Group,

I don't chime in too often, but this thread compelled me to share my
strongest
aviation reminiscense.


I earned my PPL late in life. As with many, marriage, family and other
responsibilities of life made flying an impossible dream. Living across
the
country from my parents, I was never able to share the joy of flying with
them
until last year. Two years ago, my father began battling an illness which
we
knew, in our hearts, would rapidly deplete his remaining years. A month
after
his diagnosis, I took the time to fly myself out for a visit. I
endeavored to
spend as much time with as possible.

On my first flight out there, he seemed proud that his "renegade" son
actually
accomplished something in life. After some discussion, I was able to coax
him
into a sightseeing flight. After assisting him into the co-pilots seat of
the
little Cessna, buckling him in, adjusting his headset, and giving him a
short
briefing, we started the engine, taxied, and took off.

At first he was silent, and I didn't want to speak. Sometimes words need
not
be spoken, but in our case, the lack of conversation was from years of a
strained father-son relationship. Then, through the intercom, my father
started talking to me. He talked to me in a way in which we had never
spoken.
He told me that he had always wanted to learn to fly, but due to his
responsibilities of family and life, he could never afford the lessons.
He
told me about the unspoken pride he felt when he heard that I earned my
Pilot's
License. It was then I realized that his sacrifices in life, gave me the
opportunity to learn to fly. We flew for what seemed like hours, I didn't
want
our flight, or our conversation to end.

For several visits, I was able to take my father for a short flight. He
seemed
to be in another world when he was flying. Eventually, his feeble body
began
deteriorating at a rapid pace, leaving him bedridden.

Then, late one night, came the dreaded phone call. I was able to get to
his
bedside, less than an hour before my father passed.

During my father's viewing, I wore one of my few suits which had the
little
gold AOPA wing on my lapel. My wife reached up to straighten my wings,
which
for some odd reason, always seem to sit crooked on my lapel. At that
moment, I
walked over to the casket where my father lay, and pinned my AOPA wings on
his
lapel, gently kissed him on the cheek, and said, ""Dad, these wings really
belong to you. Hang onto to them for me. You can give them back when I
see
you again."

Those wings sat straight on his lapel...