{WW} phobia

I’ve never been very fond of planes.

I remember when I took my first flight. I was thirteen and needed a ride home from Creston after helping Karen when she had Ashley Jayne. Karen brought me to the little tiny airport in Cranbrook, B.C. and kissed me before I climbed into the little turbo prop plane that took me over the mountain ranges to Grande Prairie, A.B. It was a tremendously bumpy ride and I was all nerves.

When I was seventeen I flew down to Oklahoma to drive back with Pam when she was done teaching school there. It was my first time navigating a huge strange airport (Minneapolis) by myself. I also sat by a very fat man that tried to make conversation with me and I was freaked out.

But probably the biggest thing that has fuelled my dislike and aversion for planes was Gord and Adrian’s death in 2000. They built and owned a little two-seater plane, each working on getting their pilot’s licence. April 24^th their plane went down in a little patch of trees and marsh marigolds near Delmar and Brenda’s farm.

I’ve never been the same.

Our honeymoon was two and a half months later; a mixture of tears and laughter, sorrow and happiness. I surprised my dear new husband and myself by cowering on his lap, in tears, when a little plane flew close overhead. I talked lots about my fear of planes, only to find out that this dear man by my side was very interested in planes.

We were only married a few months when as we stood together in our front yard we witnessed a little plane from the airport school in Saskatoon practice his spiral and recovery. I lost it. Completely. I bawled and bawled.

I’ve tried real hard to work with myself. With a husband who likes to travel, I really have no options except to buck up and go with. Often, I’ve been comforted that at least our family is together if the plane goes down. Our trip to China was really, really hard for me. There was no way I was going to leave Wyatt at home even though it did really seem like he would be better at home. I fought it. In the end we decided to leave him and we updated our will, making it official at the lawyer. Every flight and many times during our trip, I wondered if this was my last day. I imagined Rennie's with Wyatt. I hoped they would buy our house.

I don’t know if I have a phobia of planes or death or what. Maybe it is grief and dealing with the happenings of my life. I do know that I feel much better than I used to. Flying is much easier than it used to be. And hopefully this journey can make me more understanding of someone else.