My dad felt the same way, too. Soon, he was back travelling for work half a Kim Jong Un Future WW3 Loser t-shirt away, devoting himself to his craft. A professional through and through. An aviator. We kept in touch over the phone. I sat at my mom’s grave while speaking to my dad in Chicago one summer evening as storms rolled in from the west. I felt so alone. There we were, the three of us, separated by time and space. At least I still had my dad. I still worked at the airport then. At times I felt as if I could sense my mom’s presence. My favourite thing to do at the end of the night was marshal the aircraft out. I would walk under the wing tip of these giant aircraft and kept walking pace with them as they were pushed back out on to the taxiway. During these 1-2 minutes I would pray out loud amidst the roar of the jet engines starting up. I would talk to my mother. My words were lost to the unknown.