Memories . . .

I never cry, but here I am;

Sitting . . .
Surprised . . .
tears filling my eyes,
threatening to spill down my cheeks.

Why?

A small crop-duster plane just flew by outside my window. 

That's weird, you say!
Why would an airplane cause someone to cry?

In grief and loss, we never know when something -
     a sound
     a smell
     a picture
     or anything - will trigger a memory. 

It just suddenly overwhelms and engulfs us with deep sadness,

unannounced,

unpredictably,
rudely
with no warning. 

And  - I was immediately overwhelmed with a deep sadness,

. . . . then all these memories started to flow over me. 

LOTS of bittersweet memories.

Bitter, because he died.
Sweet, because he lived. 

It was a brilliant yellow crop duster with a bright  blue tail. 

It was beautiful. 

It was flying lower than the house, just across the road,

spraying those pesky destructive head worms/bugs on the milo. 

When I heard it, my first thought was "TERRY!  Terry needs to see this!" 

Immediately I remembered a time,  before Tammy was born,  when a crop duster was going to be spraying a field just down the road from our house.  Marvin said I could take Terry out to watch. 

It was the first time Terry had ever seen a crop duster. 

He would have been a preschooler at that time. 

In his excitement he clapped his hands and laughed and laughed. 

. . . .  and fell in love with airplanes. 

All kinds of planes

and jets and

rockets and

the B1 & B2

especially the Space Shuttle

anything that would or could fly. 

Or anything that would put air & space between his feet and the ground. 

Which would later include tying a bath towel to his shoulders

standing on the arm of the couch. 

and flying off into space.

and onto the cushions he had piled on the floor. 

Over and over and over.

His next flying endeavor would be leaping from the upper hay loft in his grandparents’ barn to the lower loft. 

while screaming “Out of the way!!!”

Tammy, in terror, moved 'out of the way' –

just to be knocked flat, with the wind knocked out of her. 

Later flying would include his dirt bike that he would fly off mounds of dirt

so he could be airborne for a bit. 

Without his mother’s knowledge, I might add.

About the same time flying included jumping out his 2^nd floor bedroom window.

To impress his younger cousins.

Telling them this was a fire drill,

just in case there should be a fire.

He could tell you everything you NEVER wanted to know – about airplanes. 

Even before he was old enough to go to kindergarten he was drawing airplanes . . 

Lots of airplanes

And, of course, tractors and combines. 

Friday, this week September 2^nd is his birthday.

He should be 42 years old. 

I think that's why the memories & tears overwhelmed me just now. 

How I miss his laughter

his ability to make me laugh. 

His instant wit and ability to come up with the funniest ‘off the wall’ comments in any situation.

his ability to make lots of people to laugh.

How thankful I am for memories. 

Lots of funny & happy memories. 

Thanks, Terry

Thanks for all the memories.

Thanks for your inquisitive mind and always asking "why" and meaning it.

Thanks for all the trips to the library to find the answers to your “whys and whats”.
 You know - for example; "what do starfish eat?"
I mean - who really cared?  Huh!  You did!
 Pretty interesting question for a preschooler who would not give up until he found out.
 Where was Google back then in the 70's?

Thanks for all the life lessons you have taught me. 

You have made my life so much better.

. . . .  later, Alligator ! ! !

I love you