sometimes you just know

It is comforting for me to say aloud that I knew something had happened to my dad before anyone told me. At first glance that may seem dark, however, I feel connected to my dad and my family when I remind myself that my body, my mind, my heart, were uneasy before anyone had told me he died. It is comforting for me to think back to that horrible night, Saturday, September 8, and remind myself: I knew something was horribly wrong before anyone said it aloud. My soul and everything inside me must have loved my dad so much that it knew before my brain was certain: something. is. wrong.

My dad died in a single engine, one person plane accident in Kingsland, Texas, not far from my parent’s lake house in Marble Falls. My brother and I were in Houston and my mom was on the dock in Marble Falls with friends from work. My dad had gone to take a final “joyride” in his “little blue plane” – a very small two-seater that he bought in 2007. He had flown it with dozens of people on hundreds, maybe thousands of beautiful blue sky days. He had flown that plane cross country from Texas to Yellowstone Park and Missoula, Montana to meet up with me and my mom. And now, he was selling it, and wanted one last ride through the air.

Saturday morning I woke up early and went to College Station with Drew, my fiancé. ESPN Gameday was there – the morning was awesome. We took pictures on our phones and texted them to my parents, razzing my dad about the Big 12 and the Longhorn Network. We enjoyed the beautiful sunshine in College Station, and during the game, Drew and I both noticed an airplane circling the stadium. It was a small, single engine plane, and it hovered over Kyle Field more than I’ve ever seen most recreational flights during a game.

“Your dad would love to be up there right now,” Drew said. I didn’t know he had noticed the plane, too, until he said something. We both had our necks craned to the sky, not thinking about the football field but my dad.

“Yea, looks like fun. My dad would love to do that over DKR in Austin. Maybe he’ll fly me down here during a game sometime!”

I watched the plane for a few minutes more, as it slowly continued to circle, and thought about my wonderful dad.

A few hours later, around 6:00, we headed back to Houston with Drew’s family. After we dropped his mom off at her house, Drew and I pulled into Taco Cabana to grab some tacos to go, and planned to go paint at our house in the Heights. I called my mom as we walked in.

She told me that Gentry had a really bad day, horrible day at work she said. (he and I had been texting about football and I knew he was at work but sounded fine to me.) “He’s at the Carrigan’s and he’s REALLY upset – you know how he gets. I’m thinking about heading home. Amy sent me a text. Can you go over there and check things out for me?”

I wasn’t super nice, to say the least. “Mom, if he’s with the Carrigan’s, why should I go over there? I’m sure he doesn’t want me over there.”

“Just go. Call me when you get there, Peachie.”

I got off the phone and told Drew what she’d said. “I guess Gentry and Amy are fighting and she wants me to go over there to check on things.”

I did not want to say the words out loud, but the way my mom sounded upset, I was worried. Had Amy had called things off with Gentry…or at least threatened it? I didn’t want to say it out loud. My mom is normally much calmer than she sounded on that phone call.

As we got our tacos, we were about 5 miles down I-10 from the Carrigans, but I wasn’t convinced we should barge in over there. I called my mom.

“Mom, if Gentry and Amy are upset with each other, the Carrigans won’t want me there.”

“They want you there, Peachie, just go over there.” We got off the phone.

I looked at Drew. “I think the Carrigan’s are going to tell me that something happened to Popa. My mom doesn’t want to tell me on the phone.”

I rubbed my forehead and thought about it, and something about the way my mom said “I’m thinking about coming home” – she was at the lake with my dad. Why wouldn’t she say “we?” Maybe Dad did not want to leave Study Group behind. My parents were at the lake with a group of New York Life folks that were like a work family.

My heart started beating fast. It wasn’t logical, but I looked at Drew. “We have to go. I think maybe something happened to my dad.”

On the drive, I turned on the radio and tried not to think about it. I began to cry, and then I said “Let’s not let my imagination run away with me. Let’s talk about something else.”

Drew’s hand was on my back as I leaned forward in my seat, feeling silly for my paniced thoughts. My phone rang, and a family friend was calling to check on me. I answered and she said “WHAT IS GOING ON?” She sounded flustered.

“I don’t know, my mom just told me to go to the Carrigan’s. Don’t tell me anything, we’re almost there.”

A forced happy tone came over her voice. “Okay, baby, well, just call me later!”

Drew was driving too slowly. As he pulled into the Carrigan’s driveway, he asked where he should park. I threw open the passenger door. “Courtney!”

“Drew, I have to get out!!!”… I ran across their yard.

When I reached the door, I saw Richard Colquitt, wearing a suit, and his wife in the front room. Richard is a close family friend, an attorney turned minister, who provides wonderful counsel. My mom would trust Susan and Richard with anything, even something as terrible as telling me my dad was horribly hurt.

I knew right away, he wasn’t coming back.  

“No no no no no no no no no.” I cannot count the number of times I was yelling the word no. Richard told me to sit down, and I remember him pacing a bit. I perched on the edge of the couch, and Susan sat next to me.

“Is he coming back?”

“He’s not.” Her face spoke unspeakable sadness.

I don’t remember anything that was said for a while after that. I put my head in my hands and was screaming “no.” At some point Drew joined me on one side and I think Catherine Carrigan on the other. They were both crying.

I started taking deep breaths and asked to talk to my mom. “Where’s Gentry?” I whispered.  

I hadn’t seen Gentry in two weeks, because he’d been in Colorado and then only back in Houston for about 4 days. He had a fuzzy beard trying to grow over his face. His eyes were swollen from crying and he looked crushed. He sat on the couch next to me.

I cried into his chest for a while, then pulled away and half-smiled. “You need to shave. You look like a goat.” Laughter filled the room. I knew we would be alright. I did not how, and I did not understand the peace washing over me, but I knew we would be alright.

I talked to my mom on the phone a few times and someone, either her or Susan, filled me in that my dad had taken off in the little blue plane, and it had done a nosedive soon after. He did not suffer, he was not in pain, but he never regained consciousness.

My mom was going to be leaving the lake very soon with some study group people to drive her here. People began arriving at the Carrigan’s. My brother and I floated between shock and denial. Drew sobbed openly for a few minutes, and it helped me know this was real.

I called Stephanie, who happened to be in town from Fort Worth. “I’m really sorry to be weird, but I need you to come to the Carrigans as soon as you can.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here. Just please come over here.”

Telling people out loud was harder than finding out myself. Soon the McClellans were there to hug us, and Luke Allen, and the Stuckeys, and some of my brother’s good friends like Drew Eckardt and Ryan Simpson.

Mary Chenoweth and the Francis’ and later John came over. I kept telling myself: “They’ve done this. You can too. They’ve done this. You can too.”

When my aunt Nikki arrived and my cousins, I wanted to know where Mike was. I couldn’t wait to hear his voice. He’d always been there whenever I needed him and I definitely needed him now. When my eyes met Brigitte’s, my heart ached for my mom. How excruciating this already was feeling…

Everyone that showed up that night meant so much. The easy thing to do when someone is so hurt is to flee. The hard thing to do is be there. People struggle with the right words to say…but if there’s anything I’ve learned, there are no right words.

How awful and almost guilty I felt much of that night thinking that we had this so easy. We had walked this road when Jay died. When Jay died, I struggled with doubt and questions about faith and yada yada. But I stood in the Carrigan’s house that night, filled with peace and absolutely certain of where my dad was – Heaven. The hard part was that we were left here. “I want to elope…” one of my first thoughts, I’m pretty sure. I could not begin to think about dancing or walking down the aisle – how would anything ever be fun again without my dad there?

Wick Stuckey and Josef Klam both came by from our church, Chapelwood, where my parents have been active members for more than 15 years.

Wick asked for all at the house to pray with him before he left. Maybe 20, 25 people at this point grabbed hands and began pray. A few minutes in to the prayer, I could not continue to stand. I dropped to my knees and begged God for comfort, for peace. I thanked him immensely for his promises of Heaven. For years, I’d struggled to memorize verses and be diligent in bible study and, just as they say, the foundation was now ready for me to collapse into.

Most of me hates how fast time is passing since my dad’s unexpected death. It is as though we are rushing away, rushing from his presence, his memory, his voice, his smell, his advice, his presence, his laugh. I want to stay right there. I am sure my mind will change, but for now, I want to be as close as possible to the day people told me he won’t be coming back. Because that means we’re closer to the day he was alive, and breathing, and loving.

It seems completely unfathomable to me that my dad has been dead for four weeks. Seriously, how can that be possible? How can we have survived this long? How will we continue to move further and further from his presence? By grace. For it is by grace you have been saved, not by works. Ephesians 2:18