The early morning phone call in our motel room jolted us awake around 9 a.m. In 1987, these phones rang only for wake-up calls or noise complaints, neither of which applied.
My mom picked up the phone, sitting sideways on the bed next to the nightstand. She spoke softly for what felt like an eternity. Meanwhile, my brother, sister, and I bounced on the beds, engrossed in the television, and pleaded with her to finish so we could head out to the amusement parks.
When she finally hung up, I expected her to apologize for the lengthy call and to announce our departure. Instead, she broke down in tears and rushed to my dad, sobbing into his chest. I had never seen my mother cry before.
Words like “plane accident,” “fire,” and “Detroit” escaped her lips in a disjointed manner, but eventually, the reality sank in: My grandfather had been in a plane crash in Detroit. A plane accident.
In the days that followed, snippets of information trickled in as the adults conversed in hushed tones. I overheard mentions of the pilot’s prior citations and the suggestion that he shouldn’t have been flying. My mom learned that one passenger had taken an earlier flight to surprise his son at a Little League game.
At nine years old, I had a whirlwind of questions about the crash. Did the passengers know where the exits were? What happened to those who couldn’t escape? Was flying really safe? And why don’t all planes fall from the sky?
Now, as a 37-year-old, those questions have multiplied. My understanding of that tragic day is primarily shaped by my childhood perspective, supplemented by faded newspaper clippings. On March 4, 1987, Northwest Airlink Flight 2268 from Cleveland to Detroit tilted dangerously during landing, with its wing grazing the ground before it flipped and collided with a concessions truck. Nine of the 16 on board lost their lives. My grandfather, a lifelong smoker seated in the rear smoking section, was among the survivors.
As a child, I asked a few questions, but when they went unanswered, I learned quickly not to pursue them. Some topics were too painful for my mom, while others were simply not meant for young ears. The information I received was often incomplete, filled with the gaps that a mother, balancing her roles as a daughter and a parent, chooses to protect her children from.
Now, as I navigate my own middle years, I find myself grappling with the same difficult questions. How does a parent explain death, divinity, and the reasons behind tragic events when they themselves are unsure?
As time passed, my inquiries shifted. Did the passengers engage in small talk, discussing work, family, or the weather? Did they remember the safety instructions? Or were they distracted, flipping through magazines and enjoying their last moments without foreknowledge of the impending disaster? What was it like to experience a plane turning over and igniting in flames? Did they pray in those final moments, and if so, what faith did they call upon?
Eventually, my curiosity faded as life took over, and my teenage years were consumed with personal concerns. However, recent events have reignited my inquiries. Perhaps it’s the natural progression of life that leads us to ponder mortality, or perhaps it’s the fact that my husband travels for work, which always leaves me worried. My oldest son is now almost nine, the same age I was when the crash occurred, placing me in a poignant position as both a daughter and a mother.
With this renewed curiosity, I wonder about my grandfather’s thoughts during those terrifying moments. How did my grandmother react upon receiving the news? How did the tragedy affect my parents’ marriage? Did the survivors ever find peace, or were they forever haunted by the memories?
Some of these questions have found answers. My grandfather escaped through one of the exits, albeit with severe burns. He lived for another 25 years, witnessing the marriages of four grandchildren and meeting six great-grandchildren, even celebrating his sixtieth wedding anniversary. While I can no longer seek his wisdom, I feel certain my mom and grandma would be more open now to answering the questions that were once shielded from me.
Yet, as I continue to explore this middle ground—watching my parents age, comforting friends experiencing loss, and addressing my children’s inquiries about life and death—I realize many questions about the crash remain unanswered.
I often think about the father who took an earlier flight to catch his son’s Little League game, the man who planned to play racquetball that night, the husband with a wife and two young children waiting at home. What were their lives like? Did they leave on a note of love, or was it a hurried goodbye filled with mundane concerns? Why weren’t their lives spared? Why did my grandfather survive while others did not?
I also reflect on those left behind: the young boy preparing for his game as his father’s flight met its end; the friend waiting for a racquetball partner who would never arrive; the wife managing two toddlers as she prepared dinner for a husband who would never return. How did they cope with their new reality? How did they push through the days that followed, knowing their lives had been irrevocably changed?
Recently, my mom and I sifted through old newspaper articles, hoping to gain more insight into the crash and its aftermath. Unfortunately, given the time period, much information remains elusive, leaving us with more questions than answers.
As I navigate this complex phase of life—filled with fear and safety, uncertainty and confidence, confusion and wisdom—I am learning that it’s acceptable for some questions to remain unanswered. It’s okay to acknowledge the unknown and to embrace a bit of mystery. It’s also perfectly fine to take risks while planning for the future and to accept that not all questions will yield answers.
Ultimately, what truly matters is that we love deeply and passionately, as if every moment could be our last. Because, in truth, it could be. That is one question that has a definite answer.
For more insights on family planning and home insemination, you might find this resource helpful: this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination. You can also learn more about the essentials of self-insemination through this informative guide, which covers various aspects of the process. For a comprehensive selection of home insemination kits, check out this authority on the topic.
Summary:
This reflective piece explores the impact of a tragic plane crash on a family, detailing the author’s childhood fears and questions about mortality and loss. As an adult, the author revisits those questions, seeking answers while grappling with the complexities of life and love. The narrative emphasizes the importance of cherishing relationships and accepting the mysteries of existence.