Since George passed away, I’ve learned a hard, cold fact. Once someone dear to you dies, everyone you care about starts to look a little less invincible. 

I was a lucky person.

I made it to 50 years old before I had to really face death. My grandparents died, but they were elderly and frail, and I was a self involved teen when three of them went. It all seemed a little distant and had that “to be expected” wrapping around it… I was sad, but I was young, and very sure of my immortality. I look at Lily, who just turned 10, and I see how death has touched her. She’s not casual about it, not at all. Tonight I got a call that someone I knew in Pennsylvania, not a good friend, but a good person, had died. I exclaimed on the phone, and Lily immediately said, “Who died?” Before I could answer, she started guessing. I was surprised at the names she blurted out, and it gave me a peek into the worries she carries around with her every day.

My friend said on the phone, “I am over people dying.” 

So am I. 

Shirley frequently reports on the friends she loses. I always ask, “How old was she (or he),” hoping for a high number. “94,” she said the last time someone died. I had to keep myself from asking what she expected. But Shirley just turned 88, so I guess 94 is uncomfortably close.

Death in general is too close. 

Of course I’m missing my mom, which makes me miss George, and the other way round. Every day since he died I have thought of him. I rarely cry, though I had a day of uncontrollable tears the other day that scared me a little and had me researching retreats on the internet. (I realized most retreats have a purpose, like yoga or art. I couldn’t find any “getting over two very stressful and significant deaths” retreats, so eventually I started googling hotels with room service and then I just decided I’d better suck it up.)

There’s no retreating from sadness. You have to go toward it and hope it doesn’t knock you over.

So far, I’m still standing.

But I’m not normal. I keep hurting myself. I kicked the doorjamb and murdered my big toe. I somehow managed to hit myself in the face with a hand mirror. I hung my thumb on something and pulling it back. I FELL. (I hate to fall.)  And I almost fell a few more times.

My balance is off, literally, figuratively, and I’m not sure how to get it back. 

“You have to get out of the house,” my friend Cathy said. I agreed, but I thought, “Eww.” That’s not a good sign, and I realize I really do have to get out more. But I have little desire to go anywhere most of the time, and then strong bursts of feeling like a caged animal. The other night both Lily and Sara went out. I spent the night with our newly adopted dog. She snuggled up to me, quaking with unknowable fear. She whimpered a little. “I know how you feel,” I told her. She’s on an anti-depressant and so am I. When I approach her she looks ashamed and skulks to a corner or runs under a piece of furniture. She’s sad, and she seems embarrassed about it.

I know how that feels too. 

I’m never quite sure what the right behavior about our losses is… Depression? Withdrawal? Manic episodes? Obsessive Lily hugging? Panic?  I’ve experienced all of these and more. Its unsettling and sometimes I creep myself out. 

I’m sure its normal that I think,  ”I’ve got to tell my mom that,” several times a day. Or that I actually STILL check to see who’s calling, hoping  unconsciously it might be George. I also “think I see him” sometimes at a store or other crowded place. I “see” my mom too. Lots of white headed little ladies out there.

Its another side effect of grief, to “see” your loved ones everywhere. But I have to say, its one that I really despise.

We had a fairy birthday party for Lily, and that made all of us happy. Some of the girls deemed it “the best party ever,” and while I ran around serving the guests I heard one little girl say to the other, “This is the life!” and I felt happy that they were enjoying  themselves. I was touched by Lily, so proud to be ten, to be the host. Of course, that made me miss George, and mom, and I fell back into being sad for a moment. Two and a half years, its getting to be a long time by other people’s estimation. I’m starting to feel self conscious about my grief. I want to be like I was before, but of course that’s not going to happen, we’re all very different. 

My birthday is next, and I’m about to hit the age George was when he died. We’re all getting older and when I look at some people I find myself mentally preparing for their passing. I see more than the person in front of me, I see the whole spectrum of life and death and joy and sorrow.

It makes me appreciate what I still have and miss what I’ve lost.

I’m thinking that’s how it will always be, from now on. Beautiful sorrow and joyful pain.

And love, always, always love.

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When you marry someone, you just have to hope that they get along okay with your people, and you make an effort to get along with theirs. George wasn’t big on large family gatherings, preferring to spend his off time quietly, at his own house, doing his own thing. My family is loud and boisterous. We’re long winded. Sometimes when you leave our house your ears are ringing. 

George, an only child, got used to us and I think he enjoyed us after a while. He was funny at family gatherings, enjoyed being cooked for, and got better and better at joining in and holding his own. I’ve always thought his favorite family member was my mom. They got along. He thought she was pretty. She thought he was cute. They talked a lot. He respected her and he often brought her opinions up to me and told me why he agreed. He liked her spunk. 

So he would be sad to know that she died the Wednesday before Christmas. 

My mom smoked from when she was 14 until her mid 40s. She was always a bit ashamed of the fact, especially since her later life included being a yoga teacher and she promoted good health habits in that role. 81 when she died, she had pretty much decided she was going to get away with being a smoker. But it turned out that she didn’t. After going to the hospital for an unrelated complaint on November 14 where the doctor threw in a back x-ray because she complained that her hip replacement was hurting, we found out she had stage 4 lung cancer that had metastasized to the spine. They gave us hope for life-extending treatments, but the cancer turned out to be “explosive,” and she became non-responsive at our home one night. They diagnosed pneumonia and aspiration, but it turned out that it was simply that the cancer moved so quickly she was overwhelmed.

They recommended we take her off of the respirator as there was nothing they could do for her. We waited a couple of days, hoping for some kind of miracle, and then accepted the situation. We took Lily over to the hospital where she was allowed into the ICU to say goodbye. Mom was in a coma. Lily laid her head on her shoulder and said, “Goodbye, Grandma. I love you.” It incredibly sad and touching. Dad and Nancy were next. We took them down to the lobby, and then my sister Laura and I went back and waited until the respirator was removed. We sat with her. It was only a minute or two before the doctor came in and said that she had passed on. Very different than the nearly two hour ordeal of George’s death. I felt exhausted, angry, sad, cheated and very lonely. We all got in the car and went home together. It seemed impossible, but my mom’s life was over.

While she was sick I “slept” in the room with her for a couple of weeks. I didn’t sleep much, of course because of the noise from the oxygen, her frequent requests for help, and worry. But we talked a lot. She said one night, “Well, if I don’t get through this, at least we’ll be closer than we have ever been.” And we were. Once again I found that seeing someone through the end of their life is painful and difficult, but an astounding privilege as well. 

We talked a lot about George during those weeks. She reminded me of crazy things he did, like how he drank too much the first time he met my parents and sort of acted like an ass… but then apologized sweetly. How she came to the house in Georgia that I rented from him while he was in Florida at school. “A furnished house.” (No heat. The bathtub falling through the floor.) How she “cleaned it up” and threw away his beer collection (100s of beers all round the top of the living room.) “Not the Billy beer!” he cried, when he came back to Atlanta to visit me. (They really had a hard time getting through that one.) How she made his favorite pot roast for him as often as possible, and how he always asked when she would make it again while he was eating it. 

She told me one thing that I never knew. She said that the last time she saw George, as we were getting in our van to go home, he looked up at her and winked and gave her the thumbs up. She thought of it later that week when he got in his accident and many times after. She said that, now that she was sick, she figured he was giving her a sign that they would see each other, somewhere, again.

I hope that’s true. We’re having her cremated. We’ll sprinkle her ashes under her favorite tree, a lilac, planted where my dad can see it from his favorite chair on the porch. I’m keeping a few of her ashes, and I’m thinking I’ll just throw them in the urn with George. I think they’d like to be together, keep each other company, until the rest of us join them. Wherever they are, I hope they’re eating pot roast and cracking each other up. I can’t think of better company to spend eternity with.

Bless them both.

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Today is George’s birthday, so I’ve been thinking about some of the birthdays we shared together… his, mine and Lily’s.

Birthdays never meant much to George. He didn’t like getting older because he didn’t like looking older, and he sort of hated getting grey hair so young. I, on the other hand, love getting presents so I love birthdays. I love giving them, too. It took a couple of years for George to get the birthday thing figured out, but he found a jewelry store he liked and started going there every time he needed a present for me. It was fun getting those little boxes, and I really started to look forward to them.

As for me, I struggled to find gifts for George. He loved to shop and he bought what he wanted, when he wanted it. That made it hard to figure out anything to give him. I once gave him a tshirt I made that said, “It takes a real man to walk a Bichon.” He liked that one, and he wore it when he walked Buster. Once I gave him a vintage poster of Captain Morgan and the Memphis Belle, and another year a folk art painting of Robert Johnson at the crossroads. Those were standout gifts. Lots of times, though, he just piled his gifts in his office, where I’d find them months later, untouched. He loved the idea of getting a present because it made him feel special, so just wrapping something up and giving it to him made him happy. Once I put birthday hats on our dogs and tied Happy Birthday helium balloons to their collars. They met him at the door when he got home late that night. That was probably a birthday high point for George.

When it came to Lily, we always gave her a big party. He sort of hated the idea of the parties (wasting a day hanging around the house) but he always rose to the occasion and charmed everyone.  He always loved the idea that I planned her parties and made them nice. He said it made him feel like a real family, and we were. He was very proud to be part of a family, a father, a husband. His pride touched me deeply. I felt special, that we were special and very lucky. I’d never have believed how our story would end because there seemed to be so much ahead. Its still just hard to believe we’ll never open presents together again. After two years my mind accepts it. I’m not sure my heart ever will.

I wonder what sort of birthday George would have had today? No more Buster, so no more Bichon tshirts. My mom is sick, and surely that would have put a damper on things. If I had to go out right this minute and get him a present, it would probably be a pair of Frye boots. He coveted them, saved his from high school, and could have bought ten pairs without blinking an eye. He was a bit of a dandy, our George.

I can’t help but wonder what he would think of our new life in his old backyard here in Asheville. What would he think of the horses and donkeys? I’m sure he’d be shocked by the garden. He’d be after me to empty that last POD, I know that. And I know he’d jump on the trampoline with his girl.

I miss him. I’d love to have the chance to wish him the happiest of birthdays in person. I want him to know that Sara, Lily and I held hands today and sang him Happy Birthday, and that Shirley had a good long cry thinking of her lost boy.

November 17 will always be a sacred day to me.

Happy Birthday, George.

I miss you, honey. I always will.

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The NTSB has released the Probable Cause for George’s accident. It is short and to the point. It says that Sanil made a mistake and pulled the wrong lever when trying to slow down and “feathered the props” (reversed their angle, which pretty much kills the engines.) It also says a contributing factor George’s inadequate monitoring of Sanil’s performance. The feathering control is on the left side of the plane, on the pilot’s left side. Sonil is a large man. George was in the right seat and could never have reached across to move those levers. Every professional pilot I have talked to has said that once the props were feathered there was practically nothing George could have done to get control of the plane. Adding to the difficulty, a crucial piece of equipment, the unfeathering accumulators, were removed by Quest with only an entry in the maintenance records. There is a chance the props could have been corrected using this piece of equipment, but it wasn’t there. All that was left to do at that point was for George to try to land the plane. Speed was increasing as the plane dropped very rapidly. There was very little distance to the end of the runway. Sanil fought with George over control of the plane. The end result, a catastrophic crash.

This is a long entry, but for those who care to read it, it is very enlightening.

Here is the pertinent excerpt from the report:

The airplane was operating as a corporate flight transporting medical specimens on a night, visual approach in visual meteorological conditions when the accident occurred. The flight was scheduled to be a single-pilot operation conducted under the provisions of 14 Code of Federal Regulations Part 91, and the pilot-in-command (PIC) had been assigned to the flight. Although the second-in-command (SIC), 1) also a Quest Diagnostics pilot, was not assigned to the flight, he asked the PIC if he could accompany him on the flight to gain familiarization with operations into Teterboro Airport. Typically, the PIC flies the airplane from the left seat; however, the PIC on this flight allowed the SIC to occupy the left seat and fly the airplane. The investigation could not determine if the pilots had coordinated responsibilities for the flight before departure or if the PIC was providing additional training to the SIC during the flight.

Radar data indicated that, while on the base leg of the traffic pattern, the airplane had an airspeed of about 204 knots, which exceeded the maximum flap extension speed by more than 50 knots and the maximum landing gear extension speed by more than 80 knots. According to the SIC, during this critical portion of the approach to landing, the nonflying PIC remained focused on providing familiarization of the airport and city environment to the SIC, who was flying the airplane, and the PIC failed to monitor the airplane’s airspeed. 2) After the SIC recognized the airplane’s excessive approach speed close to the runway environment, he attempted to slow the airplane. However, he inadvertently retarded the propeller levers and feathered the propellers instead of retarding the throttle levers. Recognizing the resultant loss of thrust, the PIC challenged the SIC’s actions and stated that both engines had experienced power loss. 3) The airplane’s unfeathering accumulators had been removed; therefore, it was not possible for either pilot to quickly unfeather the propellers and reestablish engine power. Approaching the runway centerline at both low altitude and high airspeed and with the propellers feathered, the pilots were unable to slow the airplane and descend before overflying the runway. The airplane crossed the runway threshold at 300 feet and 186 knots (90 knots more than the approach speed of 96 knots), departed airport property, struck objects, and burst into flames.

Updated at Nov 16 2011 12:49PM

The National Transportation Safety Board determines the probable cause(s) of this accident as follows.

The complete loss of thrust due to the second-in-command’s (SIC) inadvertent feathering of both propellers during a high-speed,

low-altitude approach. Contributing to the accident was the pilot-in-command’s inadequate monitoring of the SIC’s performance.

4)  Chairman Hersman and Member Rosekind did not approve this probable cause. Chairman Hersman filed a dissenting statement, which Member Rosekind joined. Member Rosekind filed a dissenting statement, which Chairman Hersman joined. 5) Member Sumwalt filed a concurring statement, which Vice Chairman Hart and Member Weener joined. The statements can be found in the public docket for this accident.

My thoughts on this report are as follows:

1) The SIC, Sanil Gopinath, was not a Quest Diagnostics pilot as stated in the report. He was a contract pilot. He had not undergone Quest’s required training for their pilots.

2) The report states that Sanil noticed he was going too fast as they approached the runway. But he told me right after the crash that George told him to slow the plane down and that was when he unfeathered the props.

3) The unfeathering accumulators had been removed. Quest states this was done to standardize the fleet. But obviously, this piece of equipment was crucial.

4) The Chairman of the NTSB, Deborah Hersman DID NOT approve this as the probable cause, and was joined by another member of the board. They both filed dissenting statements.

5) The other three members of the board did agree with the report, but filed a statement criticizing Quest’s safety practices strongly. To see them in the docket, follow the previous link, go to page 3 and look at the opinions on the bottom of the list of documents. I am including the statements in this post, too.

Here is Chairman Hersman’s Dissenting Opinion. The red highlights are mine.

Notation 8316B Chairman Hersman, Dissenting:

I understand that the accident flight was operated under the provisions of 14 CFR Part 91, which generally sets forth the requirements for small non?commercial flights. However, I am troubled by other facts revealed during the course of this accident investigation about the owner/operator of this flight, Quest Diagnostics, Inc. (“Quest”).

As noted in the accident report, at the time of the accident, Quest owned 30 aircraft, serving 63 cities per night, with 131 legs, and over 28,000 flight hours per year. All of this flight activity is transporting medical specimens. Unlike most other corporate flight departments, Quest used its aircraft for executive transport only 400 hours per year – making this operation more like a Part 135 cargo operation than a traditional corporate flight department. During an interview with an NTSB investigator, Quest’s director of flight logistics commented that “[w]e’ve grown so much that at the level we are now, we are an airline. We are the largest part 91 operator in what we do.”1

In light of this statement and Quest’s high level of activity for a commercial purpose, I question whether the Part 91 regulations provide a sufficient level of safety and oversight for an operator that is essentially in the aviation business, rather than in business aviation.

In contrast, Quest has obtained commercial operating authority from the U.S. Department of Transportation for the ground operations it conducts in different states. Although our investigation did not examine the ground transportation logistics of Quest, given what we know about their air operations, I doubt that the truck transportation is for anything other than Quest’s medical specimens. Yet, in the ground transportation business Quest is required to apply for commercial operating authority which elevates the level of accountability, recordkeeping and oversight for its vehicle operations.2

The Federal Aviation Regulations (FARs) have evolved to create different safety regimes for various types of private aircraft operations. Specifically, in 2005, the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) created Part 91K because fractional management companies had far outgrown the limited operations envisioned in FAR 91.501, which were intended to authorize turbojet flight operations of a relatively limited scope. Together with industry stakeholders, the FAA developed new regulations at Part 91K that require fractional managers to maintain Part 135?like procedures and documentation. Similarly, since 1981, the FAA has required large aircraft configured for 6,000 lbs or more of payload capacity and with seating for 20 or more passengers to operate under Part 125. In doing so, the FAA moved these types of operators out of Part 91 in order to elevate the level of safety.3

1 eADMS Brief Report, Accident Number ERA09LA469, History of Flight discussion, p. 5. 2 A review of information available from the FMCSA website shows Quest Diagnostics has at least three different DOT numbers for operations in different states: DOT 499823 (Baltimore, MD); DOT 857280 (Lenexa, KS); and, DOT 1994603 (Auburn, MI). 3 Part 125 operators cannot hold themselves out to the general public to furnish transportation “for hire” or common carriage.Given the large number of flights operated by Quest, why should there not be a higher standard of safety for its flight operations beyond those in Part 91? It is particularly troubling that when questioned by an NTSB investigator about the regulatory oversight of large Part 91 operations, the FAA responded that “there are no specific oversight requirements for non?certificated Title 14 CFR part 91 operators contained in the FAA Order 1800.56J, National Flight Standards Work Program Guidelines.” Further, the FAA states that there is no number of aircraft in a Part 91 operation that would trigger a higher level of oversight.4 At what point is further scrutiny appropriate? When they operate in 100 cities per night? When they have 50 aircraft? Or after they have another accident?

Many Part 91 corporate flight departments have training, equipment, and operations on par with Part 121, and their record is quite good. It would behoove the industry to take advantage of the information learned from this accident and study this issue further to determine whether revisions to the regulatory scheme are merited to provide a higher level of safety and oversight for these type of corporate operations.

Here is Member Rosekind’s Dissenting Opinion:

Notation 8316B Member Rosekind, Dissenting:

By definition, this brief report is limited. However, fatigue was likely present at the time of the accident and fatigue-degraded performance likely contributed to the accident’s occurrence. Despite substantial indications of fatigue effects, the present accident report fails to acknowledge fatigue’s role in the accident.

First, the accident occurred at 3:05 a.m., during the window of circadian low that is scientifically well established as a period of reduced alertness and performance, and increased errors, incidents and accidents. The recent NTSB report on the Lubbock, TX aviation accident addresses these issues in greater detail.1 The same physiological fatigue risk factors identified as contributory in the Lubbock, TX aviation accident are present in this accident and similar fatigue-degraded performance was manifested.

Second, the accident occurred on the captain’s fourth and the copilot’s third consecutive night on duty. Night work requires the need for day sleep which typically results in acute sleep loss and cumulative sleep debt. As discussed in the Lubbock, TX aviation accident, NASA and other data show that individuals do not naturally adjust physiologically to night work. Also, at the time of the accident, the copilot had been on duty for more than 11 hours. Therefore, fatigue (as a result of acute sleep loss, a cumulative sleep debt, and circadian low) was likely present and affecting both pilots’ performance at the time of the accident.

Third, fatigue degraded performance that was likely contributory or causal in the accident included reduced attention or vigilance (i.e. like the captain’s failure to monitor airspeed) and incorrect decisions/actions (i.e. retarding propeller levers or feathering the propellers).

Finally, Quest Diagnostics has a history of pilots operating aircraft for extended periods of time. Specifically, fatigue was identified as a contributing factor to the Blain, PA accident on September 3, 1994. The Flight Safety Foundation also made a specific finding in their safety audit stating that Quest pilots operate excessive flight hours.

The present report neglects to acknowledge and analyze the above fatigue factors and therefore fails to acknowledge the role of fatigue in this accident. Based on the factors identified above, fatigue was a likely contributory cause to the accident.

If you are wondering if George was generally tired, just watch the slide show and notice how many of the pictures show him sleeping. At our house we talked a lot about “sleep debt.” George was in bed for 12 hours the day before the accident.  We considered that a good day of rest. I noticed that it took George a lot of time to get enough sleep because his daytime sleep was often interrupted. There is no way to keep a house completely quiet during the day. We had a 7 year old daughter at the time. The phone rang (often Quest calling to alert George to changes in the schedule, with no regard for waking him up during his off hours when sleep was so critical.) George had a different schedule most nights, and often flew different plane types from one night to the next. Sanil was not trained for the plane up to Quest’s standards, and had been working 11 hours at the time of the accident.  George had submitted a great deal of research about the consequences of sleep deprivation to Quest’s Safety Officer, asking him to please consider the issue of fatigue and try to intervene in scheduling to minimize exhaustion. Nothing was ever done with the information he submitted, and nothing changed regarding Quest’s scheduling style. 

Here is the opinion by Member Sumwalt:

I believe this accident brief and probable cause statement accurately describes the circumstances of this accident, and I therefore support the product. However, in carefully reviewing the entire docket for this accident, I discovered things that — although perhaps not directly relevant to the cause of this accident — are of great concern to me.

Although safety was stated as a top priority for Quest Diagnostics, their practices seem to indicate otherwise. Specifically, throughout the interview summaries, whether with current or former employees, there was a persistent theme of “get the job done at all costs” and pushing to complete the mission.

One pilot was reportedly chastised for not being able to land at Washington Dulles International Airport due to low weather. The safety officer for Quest acknowledged that the Director of National Air Logistics would call out pilots for missing approaches, and pressured pilots to “take a look” to see if they could land.

In October 2009, an aircraft engine manufacturer discovered a critical safety-of-flight issue with some engines operated by Quest. In a highly unusual move, the engine manufacturer’s guidance was to “ground all affected airplanes immediately.” Instead of requiring one of those airplanes to land immediately, Quest’s Director of National Air Logistics instructed the pilot to continue for an additional two hours so that the aircraft could land at a Quest maintenance facility. According to the interview summary of Quest’s Director of National Air Logistics, he thought that continuing the flight would be an acceptable risk. His justification was shocking: in the worst case, if the affected engine should blow up, the pilot could continue on the good engine.

One measure of an organization’s safety culture is whether or not employees are willing to report to management safety concerns, events, near-misses, and errors. According to the interview summary of Quest’s safety officer, Quest pilots did not perceive a constructive attitude within management regarding such reporting, and thus, would not submit safety reports. Further, in Quest’s submission to NTSB, it attempted to show its commitment to safety by having an independent safety “hot line.” It stated, “Over the past three years, there have been no calls to the hot line related in any respect to aviation safety.” I find it highly incredible that an aviation operation that conducts 28,000 flights per year could operate for three years without encountering any reportable safety events. Yet, sadly, Quest seems to believe that this lack of reports is a positive indication of safety. To the contrary – what it likely indicates is a serious lack of trust from employees. Instead of Quest demonstrating its commitment to safety, I believe this lack of reporting vividly illustrates it is missing a vital component of a safety culture.

My belief is further bolstered by one Quest pilot indicating that an open door policy exists on paper, but once someone expresses safety concerns, they are targeted for harassment. Another interview was summarized as saying that most Quest pilots are afraid to say anything or speak up, and they are in constant fear for their jobs. Further, an NTSB interview with the assistant chief pilot for Quest discussed a flight where he was flying and reportedly on duty for 35 hours with only 3.5 hours of sleep between duty periods. Asked why he did not contest such a fatiguing schedule, he replied: “Why would I do that? I have a mortgage payment. I have a job, and if I don’t do this, I don’t have a job anymore.”

In their submission to NTSB, Quest dismissed these comments as statements from disgruntled former employees. Perhaps some of that may be the case, but the opinion I have formed is on the basis of reading all interviews – including that of the company’s assistant chief pilot and safety officer.

Denial is the enemy of change.

It is my hope that this statement will send a powerful message to the senior management of Quest Diagnostics: instead of denying these issues, the aviation department needs significant change or more accidents will occur.

Yes, Mr. Sumwalt agrees with the report as published. As I noted, there is a significant mistake in the report regarding Sanil being a Quest employee. He was not. But regardless, Sumwalt wisely questions Quest’s operation’s safety and their veracity regarding what is going on in the flight department. The CEO of Quest is leaving the company. Perhaps his successor will see the importance of making changes at Quest’s Flight Department before there are more tragedies like the one that has affected our family. I believe that Sanil was tired, untrained and confused when the feathered the propellers of the plane, and that George had only a few seconds to fix the problem. The unfeathering accumulators were removed. In the original statement to the NTSB, Sanil describes fighting with George for control of the plane. As captain, George should have immediately been given control of the plane to correct the issue.

My opinion: because of Sanil’s lack of experience and the lack of an accident protocol that would have required him to hand over control of the plane, they never had a chance. 

All of the above statements can be found on the NTSB’s webpage. 

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Related posts:

1. What Happened to George? NTSB Report on Quest Diagnostics Flight Department
2. Aviation Week Story “A Failed Culture of Safety”
3. NTSB Quest Employee Interview Summaries

Just a short note to say that my mom has been diagnosed with lung cancer, and I am heartbroken. My mom, along with Sara, have supported me during this ordeal through every bad day and every sad moment. We don’t know yet what her prognosis is, but she has metastases to her spine. I’m planning to spend the rest of her life making her feel the love she has made me feel every day of my life. So shocked. So angry. So absolutely disappointed.

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Loud noises.

Phones ringing late at night.

Any death, anywhere.

Unexpected events…

Any of these things can make my stomach churn, my brow sweat, and my heart pound. After my last post I realized I needed to figure out why this isn’t going away. So I’m going to have to go see a Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome expert. Just what I wanted for Christmas.

Everyone tells you things will get better the more time passes.

Some things fade, if you consider that getting better.

But the bad stuff really hangs on, and it gets to you in sneaky ways. For the past few months I’ve been having dreams that George isn’t dead. In these dreams, which are all very different, George is alive but he doesn’t want to come home. I try to talk him into it, guilt him into it, trick him into it. It never works.

He will not come home.

Most of the dreams have an element of danger to them. Last night, I was having to live in a tiny airplane hangar with the wreckage from his plane. I left for a few minutes in the dream, and when I drove back up the building had been demolished with all my belongings and pictures of George inside. No one would take responsibility for the damage, but I kept trying to figure out why it happened.

Sometimes I dream I have to climb up into a cave to talk to George. He tells me he’s glad to see me but he’s stuck where he is and can’t come home, and I can’t stay with him.

Other times, the dreams mirror reality, and I’m back at St. Barnabas, waiting to see him that first day, when no one would tell me his condition.

Then there are waking incidents.

If I lose something important, if something unexpected happens or something scary happens (and living with old folks can be scary,) I immediately have an extreme internal reaction. If people I have to deal with try to put me off or are rude, it happens again.

I pretty much know why the specific situations are triggers. Its life altering to watch your husband die, deal with reporters, try to sort out a loved one’s affairs, relive the accident over and over. Its maddening to still have no closure from federal agencies regarding the crash. For more than a year after George’s death I fought with the various entities who had control of his benefits while they told me repeatedly that they had “lost his death certificate, do you have another?” and other delaying tactics.

It was exhausting and painful… and cruel.

So all these things have added up to this free floating anxiety, and sudden, intense reactions to triggers that can occur unexpectedly any day. Another legacy from this awful experience that I will carry with me, maybe for the rest of my life. Lily has her own version of PTSD and is already in therapy for that and extreme anxiety.

For some reason, today, it feels like we are going under.

Maybe it is just exhaustion and frustration.

Maybe its good old fashioned anger.

Not sure. But before he died, only George made my heart pound.

Now, everything does.

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I woke up today feeling uneasy and stressed out with the feeling that something was wrong. Its a feeling I’ve become familiar with over these last two years. That moment just after waking when you remember what is wrong.

Two years have passed since George died. Lots of people ask how my grief is progressing. “Does it get easier?” they want to know.

The answer is simply, no.

The last few weeks before George’s accident, we had reached a new plateau of understanding and affection for each other. Three weeks before the accident we visited Atlanta for the 20 year anniversary of my documentary, “Riding With The King,” which follows a fan to Memphis for the death week observance of Elvis’s death. Somehow, George had never seen the film. He saw it for the first time with an appreciative audience, and surrounded by people we have known for years. Friends showed up who knew each of us, but had never known us as a married couple. Lily was there. It was a strangely joyous and affecting experience and George loved the film and the entire vacation. We drove past old haunts, visited friends, and generally had a ball. Some of George’s old friends got together and had a brunch for him, and he was truly overwhelmed that so many people showed up. When we left Atlanta he told me how proud he was of me and Lily and how much he missed being part of a community of friends.

The glow of the trip hadn’t quite worn off three weeks later when George had his accident. Those three weeks were special. I remember telling him how much I loved him frequently, and he did the same. He talked about how he enjoyed showing Lily off. It was a high point in our marriage and I felt that we were really settling in for the long haul as life partners. We were talking about moving to Asheville when Lily started high school and just generally looking hopefully forward.

Somehow, all this made the accident and George’s eventual passing even more upsetting. I have to say, looking back, that I was in complete shock for the first year. I said and did some strange things, especially in the first few weeks after his death. Everything felt very unreal. I kept expecting George to show up at any moment. The second year, reality started to sink in and while I was a good deal less shocky, I was still extremely distracted and easily upset. I kept running certain events over and over in my head.

I was, and am, extremely sad.

Now we are at the third Halloween since George left us. It was his favorite holiday, and its impossible to get ready to go out with Lily and not think about him constantly. Simply put, I miss him terribly and I feel cheated. I notice that when I get upset about something I have extreme trouble getting back to normal and I wonder if maybe I have a form of post traumatic stress disorder. Its daunting and I don’t see these things ending any time soon.

Lily is strong, and she tries really hard to keep from drifting into sadness. She was a ghost for a halloween party the other night and I made her makeup look melancholy. “I look so sad, Mom!” she complained. “I try not to look that way!”

I know what she means. I try not to look that way too.

But its there.

Happy Halloween, George. We miss you.

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September 4, 2009, George died.

Today, two years later, I’m still waiting to hear what the NTSB considers the cause of the accident. It is shocking beyond belief that an accident can occur and there is never a court hearing, no charges filed, no deadline as to when a decision about the cause must be rendered. This is specific to aviation. Because of the way the NTSB (National Transportation and Safety Board) works, years can go by without a decision being made. If George had been killed in a barroom, by a drunk driver, in any sort of car accident for that matter, or if he had slipped on ice, there would have been some legal outcome. When a plane accident occurs, unless mechanical failure is obvious or the person flying the plane is intoxicated it is possible for the case to drag on endlessly with no held accountable.

Its exhausting and depressing.

Lily has taken to saying, “Why did it happen to us?” All I can tell her is I don’t know. She’s been sad and crying a lot the past couple of weeks, and so have I. We’re still trying to grasp our new reality. Lily’s been talking about how George will never see our new house or meet our new pets. She’s crushed about this. Then she says, “We wouldn’t live here if Daddy hadn’t died.”

So hard for a nine year old to understand the way life works. So hard for her mom, too.

We’re still here, remembering George.

We hope you remember him too.

Especially today.

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Two years ago tonight, I was sleeping in my bed when I got a phone call telling me George had been involved in a plane accident. Lily and I rushed to the hospital in New Jersey and began a two week vigil that ended in the worst possible way. On September 4th, 2009, we came home without him. Its been a long journey from there to here, painful and lonely.

Its not the being alone that bothers me, its being without him.

Its been a while since I’ve written here. I sometimes feel I’ve said all I have to say about what happened to our family. I’ve known a lot of people who have lost someone important to them. Recently, a couple of friends have passed away at far too young an age.

I know we are not alone in our grief. But on bad days it can feel like we are.

I try to talk to Lily freely about her dad. I want her to know how he thought and why he was special. Its my job to help her remember, and it can be scary. What if I forget to tell her something important?

One night we were looking for something to watch on TV and I clicked past “Liar, Liar,” with Jim Carrey. He was chasing his son, and the little boy was whooping with excitement. “I used to have a funny daddy,” Lily said. “He was funny, and he would chase me.” It breaks my heart that her memories of him are mostly childish ones. She never got to have the important conversations with him, so she looks for other people to talk to about God, and life, and how the world works.

“I feel like I talk too much sometimes,” she told me once. I told her, “Just be yourself,” and I hope she will take my advice.

George was, more than anything, himself.

I never met anyone who I enjoyed being with as much as him. He was self deprecating, funny, curious and open. His memories were his friends. Anyone who knew him for any period of time liked him. He had sparkly eyes, a deep voice, and an acid tongue. He took life as it came. His biggest ambition was to be a good dad. He was a loyal friend and a loving husband.

Every day I knew him he made me laugh, sometimes even when I was mad at him. He played the guitar, watched old TV shows, and preferring being at home to anything else.

I miss him every day.

Especially today.

To all the people who have helped and supported us this past two years, thank you.

I hope you’ll keep George in your hearts, and think of him often.

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It has been a year and a half since George’s passing. When you’re a widow, you have a lot of conversations about your dead husband. I accept that. People want to know what I think about what happened to me. Everyone’s fascinated, because everyone’s afraid it will happen to them. I’ve had lots of heartrending conversations with people about life and death. Many people want to know what I believe about the hereafter. My thoughts have run the gamut from the “flipped off switch” to the idea of eternal life.

Such a seductive idea, eternal life.

“He’s looking down on you.”

“He’s your guardian angel.”

To be honest, my beliefs are more secular. But I do know one thing. When George was alive he was my guardian angel, and I miss that more than I can say. Let me explain.

When my first marriage broke up, I was distraught. The future was a black hole. I felt used up, exhausted, and jaded.

I felt so damn unloved.

Then, about five months after my separation, George called. If you knew my husband, then you know the jolt of energy that accompanied his presence. His bright, sparkly eyes. His deep laugh. His sly wit. When I heard his southern drawl on the phone I was filled with a powerful sense of peace and hope. I knew things were going to be all right.

And they were.

I remember, during the time when we first reconnected, my mom saying over and over, “Thank goodness for George.” She was so glad that I had him in my life. So glad he found me again.

He wasted no time, putting a lot of effort into making me feel better. He reminded me who I was and what I was made of. As time passed, he never failed to let me know that he loved and valued me. He sang my praises and he sought to turn my faults into strengths. He accepted me for who I was. “You know why we’re a good couple?” he asked. “Because you just like me and I like you, no matter what.” Its true, we did. I’m not saying we didn’t fight. He had some really annoying traits. But I couldn’t stay mad at him very long. I didn’t want to stay mad.

Now, after all that has happened, I remember George’s beautiful spirit. He warmed my life. He made me laugh. The world shined when he walked in. I absolutely do feel his love is all around me. I feel solitary, but not alone. Memories of him can make me happy, sad, and everything in between. I didn’t get enough of him, but I’m pretty sure no amount of time would ever have been enough.

We had what we had. Its over. My life goes on, but without my guardian angel.

And when I think of him, and I always do, I think, Thank goodness for George.

Thank goodness for George.

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