when it hits the fan, who do you turn to?

*** I wrote this one night this past June, while my mom and I were on a road trip from Houston to Crested Butte. 

I miss my dad daily, all the little questions I want to ask and advice I want to get from him. He was my go-to guy. First real job offer? Talked it over with dad. First car purchase? Dad. First real boyfriend as an adult? Talked to dad all about him on a long bike ride. (10 months later he asked my parents for their blessing for us to get married.) 

I miss him for the big things, like Laura Thornton's wedding and Williams 21st birthday, but I miss him for the small things, like funny things drew says that remind me of Dad, or when my mom does something that we would inevitably tease her about together. (Like hit a pine tree with her car while searching for cell service in the country. You're welcome, Mom.)  

And then, when shit really hits the fan, I am surprised how much I expect Dad to be there for me, for us. 

Like today when my mom and I were about two hours south of Santa Fe. And our tire blew. And we swerved into the left lane uncontrollably and then mom steadied the car and and pulled off to the shoulder. We had three dogs in the car, sun was setting, no jack. I know he's not here, but I wanted to call him. Tell him we were okay. Have him tell us we'd be okay. 

I called AAA and my mom called 911 and said it was a non emergency- they sent a sheriff who was in the area. He helped us get our spare out (and a you tube video also helped, Land Rovers are tricky creatures) and started to change it. The nice mechanic and his wife arrived soon after. Nobody knew what caused the tire to blow. The mechanic says he rarely sees something like that. 

Our knees were shaky and mom and I were pretty wound up. 18 wheelers passed by loudly. 

"I have to tell y'all, my husband died in a plane crash, and I don't do accidents well. I've seen them end badly. I am very very thankful you're here." 

On the way to the mechanics shop, my mom got teary, which is rare. She's usually the strong one and me, I'm the weeper. 

We were talking about things we were thankful for, like that there was no one in the other lane when the tire blew, thankful we had cell service thirteen miles out from the nearest one-stop light town. And thankful that it wasn't dark outside yet. Though it was pitch black in this tiny town now. Her voice cracked. 

"I don't know why your dads engine couldn't have just held."

I said nothing for a while, afraid my voice would give away the sob I was holding back. Finally I said "I don't know why some people beat cancer and others don't." 

My mom told me something she had never told me. When Chip May (New York life agent in Fort Worth, fellow pilot, long time friend of my dads) came to tell my mom that dads plane had crashed and he wasn't coming back, she remembers almost immediately saying...

"Chip, that can't be right. We already lost Jay...And Courtney is getting married in December. He has to walk her down the aisle."

We can't explain the mess in life, how the good die young and others go around aimlessly not doing much of any living or loving. 

I don't have answers to a lot of questions. But I do know, people push us forward. The mechanic from AAA had us follow him back to his shop so he could check our lug nuts and pressure of the spare. He and his wife went above and beyond to be sure we were safe, us city folk in our shiny car and them in their rusty, creaking truck. The sheriff stayed with us when he didn't have to. My 96 year old great-grandfather gave me away. 

We fill in for each other. 

We give up ourselves for others. We shake our head and wonder, why bad things happen to good people, but we don't let the wondering consume us. We sit on the side of the road shaky for a minute, and then we patch up our tire and carry on. 

It's what those that have left such holes in our hearts would want us to do - fill each other up, and live.