Today I have been to the funeral of a friend. I only got to know him relatively recently. He was a pilot with 45 years’ experience. I had been flying with him, once, earlier this year. He took me flying in the aircraft that ended up being his funeral pyre.
Not even two weeks ago, I saw that beautiful, red and white Citabria in the blue sky. I saw it turn. Something was wrong; I knew what was going to happen. I saw it crash, then, after a pause, I saw the flames. It was already too late. My new friend, and the young lad that I later discovered had been with him, would not have survived the impact.
He was a dear man, with a loving wife and family; Someone who had come up to me one day, and given me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, when he saw me at Parafield Airport. He had given me a lift in his car. He had taken me flying. He smiled and made fun. I will miss his presence at the flying things I go to.
Janice
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