I was inspired to write this post today after watching my son play baseball.

I have three kids, and two play baseball. Today my middle guy, Andrew, was sick so Mimi took him home and I was left there with Nicholas. I sat under a tree in the shade, near first base where my son was playing. They play at a local church not far from our house or the airport. He looks over at me and I blow him a kiss, he blows one back. (he’s still not too cool to show public displays of affection ) Suddenly I hear the familiar sound of an airplane overhead, only to look up and see the JetBlue tail. I see planes daily and many of them are JetBlue. I usually take a moment and reflect, but not today. Today something hit me like a wave of breathlessness. A flurry of thoughts came over me and I didn’t quite know how to feel. I try to see the signs, or appreciate the moments, but this moment just felt unfair.

He should have his Dad there. All the other Dads were there. Being a pilot wife, I was used to him missing events like this, but today was different. Was it a cruel reminder that Dad is not with us, or is it a moment given to me so that I can know that he is with us? I’m also a realist and understand that statistically the chances of JetBlue flying over my house on a daily basis is not out of the ordinary. But it’s also a reminder that if he hadn’t passed away it could have very well been him, on that plane.

Today was yet another symbolic reminder, one of hundreds to come I’m sure. I just don’t usually get hit like this.

Oddly, moments like this happen when I’m in crowds, and that is to be understood I guess. When families are out and about such as today, where the family unit is usually complete, I am always reminded that mine is not. I feel like an outsider. I feel like I don’t belong. I feel like our family is broken, and I guess it is.