To my favorite pilot,
It’s been two years since the day you were called back home. Two years of remembering our best memories and having to accept that we won’t have any more. Two years of thinking I’ll see you at Thanksgiving or Christmas, only to come back to reality and knowing I have to wait much longer. Two years of wondering how heaven is and if you’ve hung out with my grandpa, or if you’re throwing dance parties for all the angels like you used to do for us. I hope you know how much I miss you, how often I think of you and how much you influenced who I am today. I was so blessed, in every aspect of my life, with your friendship. I need you to know that.
Nothing is the same. Every time I see an airplane overhead I think of you living your dream. Every time I hear the roar of a Ford Mustang I picture you waving from the driver’s seat. The truth is, I’m not over that day and I don’t think I’ll ever be. How am I supposed to “get over” a passing of someone I’ve known since kindergarten, but more importantly someone who had known me and chosen to be my friend through it all. There aren’t enough hugs or condolences in the world that can ever make this okay. The only consolation I have in all of this is that I’ll see you again, up there, but I still hate that this is the new normal. Who is going to be my source of rap music? Or know exactly what I want when I walk into Tropical Smoothie Café? Or share my obsession with chips and salsa? There was only one you, Michael, and our conversations aren’t the same with me just talking to the sky.
I want you to know I couldn’t have made this move to Kent State without you. The last time we spoke I told you I was unhappy with where I was in life. You told me that I could go wherever, do anything and be successful; I just had to pick a place and go. You always knew how to make people feel invincible and I am eternally grateful for how much you believed in me. I often imagine where you’d be now: starting your senior year at Case Western, flying a plane on the weekends, hanging out with your fraternity brothers or going to Chicago every chance you’d get. Whatever it would’ve been, I know you’d do it with a smile on your face and a joke on the tip of your tongue. I wish you were here, but I know whatever you’re experiencing now is way better than even the best day here on Earth. I know that there is purpose in your living and dying. I just can’t understand it now. I may never be able to fully grasp the meaning of your passing, but I trust that it’s there; just as there is meaning in the lives and deaths of Lucas, John and Abraham as well.
Thank you for being my guardian angel and walking with me. I miss you so much, but until we meet again, fly high, buddy.
Love,
Your forever-friend Krista