Learning to Love through Loss

Photo by Derek Thomson on Unsplash

An empty middle seat is a rarity on my Thursday flight to Columbus. I held my breath as the last of the boarding passengers shuffled past our row. Smiling at my row mate, I quipped, “How did we pull that off?”

A few minutes later, I was already working my DuoLingo Italian lesson for the day when I heard a scratchy voice, “I’m so sorry, can I squeeze in there?” Squeeze was the perfect word selection. This guy looked like he could bench press three of me at once. My very comfortable flying quarters just got a bit more intimate. It’s only a 50-minute flight, so I wasn’t worried about it. I felt sorry for him stuck in the middle, but he was in incredibly good spirits. “I totally fell asleep in the airport,” he admitted. “I bet there’s like a hundred Snapchats of me snoring.”

We were both having a chuckle over that when we heard that dreaded sound….the engines started to power down. A moment later the pilot’s voice boomed over the intercom. Due to some weather, we would be on the tarmac for about 45 minutes. I’m used to traveling delays by now and was just thanking God that I had remembered to charge up my phone battery. I was about to plug into the Moth podcast when the gentlemen in the middle seat struck up a conversation….one so poignant; I’m still thinking about it days later.

It started basic enough. Where are you from, what do you do? All the usual. We found out we had the common bond of both growing up not only military families but specifically Airforce. He shared that both his grandfather and father had been fliers and now his son was as well. He went on to his son for quite a while, {as proud parents do}. I asked where his son lived, and he gave me the details but mentioned that he’s also deployed to Afghanistan often. I don’t know why I decided to go down this path, but I asked him how that made him feel. Did he still feel the knots in his stomach each time his son deployed? His answer stunned me.

“I’m happy to have him die doing something he loves.”

I couldn’t move. And looking into his eyes, I knew there was more to this statement. So I didn’t speak.

“He loves flying, and he loves this country.” He continued, “We lost our 18-year-old daughter four years ago in a senseless car accident. If I have to choose between that or losing my son while he is doing exactly what he wants to do and exactly what makes him happy, then my fear needs to take a back seat.”

I could see the pain, the glassiness in the eyes that comes when you speak about a hurt that never actually heals. I think I managed to mutter I’m sorry for your loss. But there was something else behind his gaze as he now shifted it to stare out the window.

“We’re different people, my wife and I. That day changed us. Every day now is about doing what we love and being with who we love. We’re closer to each other, to our son and even to my brother.”

Up to this point, he hadn’t mentioned a brother and initially this comment felt so out of context.

“My brother is a Pentecostal Christian. They’re the ones that don’t watch TV.” He offered as an explanation. {Being quite familiar with the religion I was tempted to correct him but knew at this moment, it was irrelevant.}   “We didn’t talk much for a long time because I didn’t feel like we had anything in common. A lot of times we’d just get in really heated arguments. I’m Catholic”

“Things are different now. I just call. We talk. We still debate, but it’s more intellectual than before. I think we want the same things. We just approach it from different paths.”

“So if my son dies tomorrow or I die tonight everyone in our family knows how much we love them and everyone knows we are living our passion. And I would be okay with that.”

All I could do is nod my head.

In this father’s incredible loss, he received the gift of a new perspective.

As much as you may fear or have hesitation about a loved one’s decision, try to look beyond yourself and see their passion. If your loved one’s decision is making them happy, celebrate it, in love.

And, even if you don’t agree with someone, learn to communicate with them. Give them the gift of knowing you can see past a difference in opinions and love them.