Three years ago yesterday, my world changed forever. On January 29, 2006 Darrell crashed his plane short of the Murfreesboro, Tennessee airport runway. He had had problems immediately after take off from the Smyrna, Tennessee airport and the air control told him to go on to Murfreesboro instead of turning around. With the problems the plane was having, it was incredibly difficult for him to keep the plane up, but he did. And he almost made it. About 50 feet short of the runway a crosswind tipped his plane. His right wing hit the grass, he tried to recover but it tipped again and this time the plane flipped over and at some point, caught on fire.
The previous 2 years I acknowledged the day but this year I refused. For one thing, I feel like I'm moving past that date, in spite of the fact that I'm writing about it, perhaps because I'm writing about it. For so long that date and March 7, 2006 have defined who I am. But I don't want them to define me anymore. They will always mark the most significant change in my life but I want to move on from there.
Our first Father's Day after Darrell died, I didn't go to church. The girls and I were out of town (Ross and Trace were with their dad) and I refused to acknowledge Father's Day. The girls and I acted like it was any other day but Father's Day. My sister-in-law, Darrell's sister, seemed horrified by my actions. But I told her I acknowledged Darrell every other day. It hurt to badly to acknowledge him that day.
I want to remember life with Darrell, not how I lost him.