The logic of all this ran at supersonic speed through my mind in a computer-like process that brought me to my feet. Trent looked up from the notebook with surprise. I stood there, frozen, and then I heard what had begun deep inside me back at the heliport: a tiny yet persistent cry that ballooned int
o a scream. Mommy's scream, a scream I would hear for the rest of my life.
.
I turned and hurried out of my room toward the front door, my cry for my mother on my lips. What I saw put stone in my legs and stopped my heart. Mommy was unconscious and in a naval officer's arms. He and the officer with him were struggling to get her to the sofa in the living room.
"Mommy!" I cried.
Trent came hopping up behind me. We both watched in awe and then slowly followed them into the living room.
The older officer tamed to the younger one. "Get me a cold damp cloth and a glass of cold water." he ordered.
"Yes, sir," the younger officer said, and snapped to it, rushing by me as if I wasn't there.
"What's happening?" I demanded, My tears were streaming down my face in anticipation.
"There's been a helicopter accident involving your father," he replied. "I'm sorry."
Within those two words were all the tragedy and pain I could ever feel in my life. He didn't have to explain any more or add any descriptive words.
I'm sorry? I'm sorry your father is gone forever? I'm sorry something mechanicalwentwrong and changed your life and your Mother's life forever? I'm sorry someone as strong and wonderful as your father could be gone in seconds, just removed as if he had been swept off in a hurricane?
There are no words in our language adequate to explain or comfort anyone when something like this occurs. I thought. Despite the fact that my father was part of a military machine that could be and often was placed in harm's way, those fears were so hammered down and hidden from our consciousness that we refused to confront them. Every time we had seen Daddy go off or had watched him fly in a plane or a helicopter, there was a moment when our breath was seized and our hearts were on pause. It passed quickly, and we relaxed in the knowledge that he was one of our country's finest and our country had the best and the safest equipment in the world.
Military people, the families, have a second level of faith beyond religion. They believe in the structure, the procedures, the efficiency, and the power of the branch, whether it be the Navy or the Air Force. Daddy used to say flying military was ten times safer than commercial. Just consider all that security, all those men working around equipment, being supervised and observed by officers, taking pride in efficiency and success, standing straighter, beaming with their medals. These men wouldn't permit such things to happen.
But something had gone wrong with Daddy's helicopter. They couldn't recover. Mommy was told the details. There was that we don't hide the facts from our Navy family attitude in the face of the officer who sat with her and with me. It was as if knowing how it had happened brought some relief, when, in fact, it only added to the misery and horror as far as I was concerned.
What was Daddy thinking when that helicopter began to have trouble and all his training, all his knowledge, wasn't helping? Were his last thoughts about me about Mommy? Was he terrified? Did he scream, or did he maintain his composure in front of his men as his superiors would have us believe?
Does any of it matter the next day when you open your eyes and realize, no, it wasn't a nightmare? He isn't here. He will never be here again.
I was at Mommy's side when she regained consciousness. She held me, and we rocked back and forth as if we were on our little rowboat already, cast out to sea with no safe harbors in sight, no Daddy to bring us back.
I forgot all about Trent, of course. He made a quick, quiet exit, probably shocked and terrified. I didn't even remember he had been there until hours and hours later. The senior officer who had come was a doctor and had brought sedatives. Mommy refused them, but he insisted she consider taking at least one pill. It would deaden the pain, disguise it, hide it a little or just enough to get her through the first terrible hours, he said.
I wanted to take the whole bottle. Later he pulled me aside and told me to remain as alert as I could so I could watch over her for the next twelve to twenty-four hours. He made it sound as if she might take her own life, and that put even more terror into my heart as I remembered what Autumn had done to herself for something I now considered trivial in comparison.
I couldn't speak. but I nodded. I helped Mommy to bed. Other wives of naval officers began to arrive soon afterward. As if they had all had training in what to do when this happened, they took over our home, helped organize and manage our immediate needs. Of course. I appreciated it, but their stoic efficiency made me suspicious. It was as if they all always knew this was gooing to happen. That was ridiculous. of course, but it was part of my dark thinking, thinking I couldn't stop.
.
Daddy's naval funeral was elaborate and impressive, full of tradition. It was a terribly beautiful day, a day that should have been reserved for wonderful, happy events, with the sky so clear blue and the few tiny clouds like small puddles of milk, pure white. The sea breeze was warm and as gentle as a mother's kiss.
Not only was Vice. Admiral Martin in attendance, but the secretary of the Navy was flown down. Three other men had been killed in the accident. It was in the national news for a few days. Officer after officer came to us to tell us how much they had respected and admired Daddy: "He would want you to go on." "Hold yourself up." "Achieve in his name." The laying of responsibility and obligation on my shoulders was their way of helping me cope. Nothing seemed to terrify them more than the sight of my tears. Perhaps it reminded them all how vulnerable they and their families were, and that was something they couldn't tolerate and continue to do what they had to do. Salutes, handshakes, some hugs, everyone in proper uniform and attention, was the order of the day.
I'll never be able to tell anyone how I felt standing at that gravesite and staring at that flagdraped coffin. My daddy can't be in there, I thought. This is all just another exercise, a rehearsal, a ceremony. Soon it will end, and Daddy will be back to tell us how well we performed and how proud of us he was.
"I knew you could pull it off well. Sailor Girl." he would tell me.
There he would be, standing as proudly and looking as handsome and exciting as ever, my moviestar Daddy who sailed the sea and flew in the clouds and gave men confidence and hope, who made me cry when I sang the national anthem and said the pledge because I knew how important it was to him and to all the men around him that we feel what they were doing 'vas so very important. It wasn't just my imagination when I saw how children of naval families looked more somber and serious when we had to do this at school. Disrespecting the flag or the anthem was the same as disrespecting your parents. Disrespect eventually put them in danger, which put us all in danger.
These were the thoughts that I had developed as a young girl, but somewhere out there in the dark, over the ocean, in a matter of seconds. Daddy had died tragically and made them all fall back. A great door would come crashing down on this world, the only world I had ever known. The mournful sound of Taps would lift us away, and we would say goodbye to "the life."
In the days that followed Mommy gathered her strength. She told me that at the moment she felt as if Daddy was just away on another sea duty.
"I keep telling myself he'll be back or we'll hear the phone ring or get a letter," she said. "I know it's silly, and I have to stop it."