As I knelt in front of the marker, I noted the dates: May 1946 – August 1965. I absently brushed the marker off, removing the accumulated mosses and lichens attempting to grow on it. As always, I wondered how her last moments on the plane occurred. Did she know the plane would crash, or did it catch her by surprise? I thought about the terror she must have felt if she did know as the pilot desperately tried to pull out of the dive before the plane hit the water at 230 MPH. Nobody ever figured out if the pilot even realized that he was 10,000 feet closer to the water than he thought when he started his descent into Chicago’s O’Hare airport. The flight recorder was never found, so all they had were radar returns and the wreckage found to try to determine what happened.
I angrily pushed those thoughts away as I gently and tenderly unpacked my memories of ‘Sia, remembering her shy smile, the sound of her laughter, her taste and smell, and the sounds she made when I brought her to orgasm. As I relived those memories, I wondered if ‘Sia was truly dead since she still lived on in my memories. I wanted to believe that no one was truly dead as long as even one person was still alive to remember them. Maybe that’s why markers were so important – they gave one a focus to help keep those memories alive.
I wept silently as I gently and tenderly packed my memories of ‘Sia back up and put them away one more time. I vowed to ‘Sia that someday soon, and it wouldn’t be much longer; I’d be joining her in that last great adventure. “Oh, ‘Sia,” I softly whispered, “I really hope you’re waiting for me. I’ve got so much to share with you.”
I stood up, and April and June joined me. I looked around and saw how few gravestones appeared to have had someone visit them. As my gaze traveled around, I saw two markers with the names James Hanratty and Virginia Hanratty side by side, the accumulated mosses and lichens making them almost unreadable. It looked like no one had been there for decades, and I idly wondered if anyone was still alive that remembered who they were.
“Enough,” I chastised myself. “Not my circus, not my monkeys.” Putting my ruminations aside, I turned to April and June, smiled, and said, “Let’s go home.”
In Memoriam:
Unfortunately, Maonaigh (pronounced Mooney), one of my favorite authors on Literotica and the one who requested this story, passed the day before Pt. 03 was published. I wish I could have finished this story before he passed, but he never let on how sick he was. At least he was aware of it and had even started reading it before he passed. I really enjoyed his comments on my stories and our many conversations via email. I will miss him.
Please go and read his stories. They are all well-written and worth your while.
As Anna said, “I wanted to believe that no one was truly dead as long as even one person was still alive to remember them. Maybe that’s why markers were so important – they gave one a focus to help keep those memories alive.” I had written those lines with Maonaigh in mind weeks before hearing that he had died. As long as we all remember him, I do believe he is still alive.
Authors Note:
The airplane crash referred to in this story was a real event. United Airlines Flight 389 went down in Lake Michigan on August 16, 1965. Because the flight data recorder was never recovered, all they had were the radar returns, conversations with the crew, and the wreckage to try to determine what had happened. The most likely theory was that just before the plane started its descent into Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, the pilot handed control over to the co-pilot so he could start working on his end-of-flight paperwork, something that was not unusual and routinely occurred. The co-pilot apparently misread the altimeter, thinking he was 10,000 feet higher than he actually was. The design of the altimeter used in the aircraft made it easy to make that mistake. In fact, at least two other airplane crashes had been attributed to this, both occurring in 1958. Because it was dark and there were clouds and haze down to about 2,000 feet above the water, it was quite possible that the plane impacted the water before the co-pilot could react. Based on the positions of the throttles and the flaps on the wings from the wreckage recovered, it looked like they were all set in the position for a controlled descent of 2,000 feet per minute, again normal procedure. There was no evidence that the pilot/co-pilot ever tried to pull up. Reading the FAA final report is a real eye-opener. If interested, you can find a link to the report from the Wikipedia page for United Airlines Flight 389.
There is an old movie titled “Fate is the Hunter” which is about an investigation of a plane crash. It is quite good and if you can find it, I would recommend watching it.
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