Four Years Now…
by A. Cacioppo
High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee
No 412 squadron, RCAF
Killed 11 December 1941
I lost my best friend today. Four years ago. I lost my partner in crime. I lost the only real father I ever had. I lost my grandfather. I lost the voice that always greeted me so happily. I lost my Popo.
I grew up knowing that every moment I had with him was borrowed time due to his congestive heart failure. And I got twenty four years. Twenty four years of discing fields, picking pecans. Flying and fishing. BBQing Ribs, Oysters, Meatballs and Newcastle Ale. Aviation movies and political debates.
I was in such a hurry the last day he was conscious. He was pale, but he was always pale then. He was sitting at the kitchen table demanding my grandmother to make fried chicken. Demanding she invited their neighbor over who would inevitably show up anyways. I had just got home from work and I was in a hurry to get to Madera. Selfishly, I wanted the peace and quiet. I wanted a night without fear of death, a night without worry.
It was five am when I got the call.
It was five days later that he passed. He did it quietly. I had just come home from school. My grandmother and I were sharing a glass of wine and discussing her plans for when he passed. He knew it to be time. That last audible breath he took is the most horrifying sound in my memory. Having my hand on his chest to feel those last twenty three minutes of heartbeats, destroyed me.
Those twenty three minutes will never replace the twenty four years of memories I had with him.
I feel your ghost today, Popo. I love you. I miss you.
