RIP David L. Fielding
May 30, 1967 – December 18, 2005

I had a moment of silence at 1:15 this morning, remembering how silent the room was at Mercy Hospice in Scranton, Pennsylvania, where my husband took his final breaths. There were four of us with David when he passed — a nurse, two friends, and me. The way I remember it was more like an out-of-body experience, viewing the scene from above rather than by David’s bedside. I don’t know how long we stood there silently after his body shut down. It could have been a minute, it could have been five, time seemed to stand very still.

In exactly half a year I will turn 38 years old, and I will be the age that David was when he left this world. While most healthy people take for granted that they’ll live to a ripe old age, I’ve held the notion as an adult (long before I met David) that I would probably die young, which is why I celebrate my birthday as resolutely as I do. I have an early history of recklessness and taking risks, but after losing David I certainly don’t take anything for granted now. He was a perfectly healthy man who was taken in his prime. It could as easily have been me in the cancer ward and David the one left behind. I’ve often asked the universe, why am I still around?

In the last four years I’ve searched for meaning and purpose because I concluded that I must be around for a reason, and it’s up to me to figure out what that is. David knew very clearly what he wanted out of life, and being married to him changed me. It is the reason why I could no longer return to being called Edwin even after he died, I am a different person now. I took the name Edwin-Fielding because it fit me better.

David didn’t like to be called a pilot, he always wanted to be known as an aviator. A pilot is someone who can fly a plane, but an aviator encompasses so much more. I could understand why David preferred aviator, he was a walking encyclopedia of aviation history. He could identify old airplanes overhead and tell you stories about them. He was passionate about the golden age of flight, especially postal service aircraft that had no air traffic control, accurate maps, GPS, or weather forecasting. They had mail, they had destinations, they were on a mission, come-what-may. David had an abiding respect for the pioneers of aviation who chose this risky life.

If you look up aviator in Wikipedia, it says this:

The term aviator (as opposed to “pilot” or other terms) was used more in the early days of aviation, before anyone had ever seen an airplane fly, and it had connotations of bravery and adventure.

David’s ashes were scattered from an old airplane over an aerodome on his birthday in 2006 because I know the ground is no place for aviators. They belong in the sky.

We miss you, AviatorDave. Clear skies.

Music for today: David’s favourite musician, Elton John, performing “Rocket Man” on his 60th birthday at Madison Square Garden in 2007. When David was 15, he saw Elton John perform at Madison Square Garden as a guest of his uncle, David “Sonny” Werblin, who owned the New York Jets back then. (This is an interesting story and will be a future post.)

The weekend of May 29-31 was, in a word, BRILLIANT. All missions were accomplished, and then some. (Makes me want to pun the title: The ReCAP.)

Thursday: arrived at Helma’s, was fed heartily (as always!)
Friday: met with Executor, picked up David’s flight bag, went to Mona’s house
Saturday: went to temple for David’s yizkor, lunch with Helma, then Mona’s house for birthday dinner
Sunday: went flying with Alan, Helma’s house, then Mona’s before driving home

I originally wanted to fly on Friday, but the weather was pretty foul so I opted for an impromptu meeting with the Executor. To have David’s flight bag back and finally wear our headsets again was a great feeling! It seems a bit silly to get attached to something as nondescript as a headset, but if you’ve been reading this website for more than a few years you’ll have seen the scores of flying photos and videoclips I shot with us squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder in our little Tri-Pacer cockpit, David wearing his light green David Clarks and me wearing my Red Barons. These are very fond memories for me, and just seeing that bag again triggered the anticipation of flying adventures and made my heart leap a little.

But my main purpose of this particular birthday trip, 42 years after David entered this world, was to visit his mother. We spent most of three days together, talking about David as a baby, a little boy, his childhood, bar mitzvah, all the way through school, college, married life, learning to fly, Civil Air Patrol, working life, our lives together, and his last days. Mona filled blanks for me, and I filled in blanks for her. It was dizzying how much we covered in one weekend, but I’m convinced this was the best thing that could’ve happened on May 30, 2009.

I went to Temple Israel on Saturday and attended the entire service, from beginning to end. There were three items on the agenda: David’s birthday, yizkor, and shavuot. When I arrived I sat at the back, and the rabbi — in mid-service — came all the way down from the front and greeted me. I have to say, this really made an impression! The rabbi and I last met in 2005, at Mercy Hospital and the hospice, and he remembered me.

I took away many ideas from that service, but perhaps the one that stood out the most was that of celebrating the life of the person(s) we’ve lost. 

In keeping with that sentiment, I went to the grocery store on Saturday to pick up some of David’s favourite food, and that’s what we had for his birthday dinner. David’s tastes ran a little to the unhealthy side (corn dogs, etc.) and I tried to balance it out with salad and fruit. I could’ve bought more food, but we could only eat so much in one sitting, so I purchased some in frozen form for Mona to eat later.

(Click on the pic to see the notes in Flickr): chicken wings, potato pancakes, soft pretzels, vidalia onion vinaigrette, corn dogs, key lime fruit bars and…

… the pièce de résistance: David’s favourite key lime pie.

I tried to see if the store would sell me half, but I had to get the whole thing. It’s a lot of pie! But Mona agreed: it was yummy — not too sweet, not too tart.

Mona bought a new TV a few years ago and nobody hooked up her VCR. She thought it was broken and never watched the memorial tape I sent her until I plugged in the VCR on Sunday. I escaped to the kitchen after I came on the screen but eventually I watched it (I still feel weird watching a recording of myself speak). I showed her who everyone was and told her how the memorial unfolded. This went on until about 3 o’clock in the morning, when my eyelids and limbs and head became so heavy I lay down on the couch. I had no energy left to drive the five minutes it would’ve taken to return to Helma’s house and I lay there, in the same outfit, fast asleep for four hours…

… until 7 o’clock when Mona woke me up to tell me that Alan was going flying! I was so completely disoriented — where am I and why am I wearing a skirt? — it took me a couple of seconds to realise IT WAS TIME TO GO FLYING! Helma knew how much I wanted to fly and tracked down Mona’s phone number, passed it on to Alan, he phoned Mona, and she woke me up!

I grabbed my wallet and shot out the door to Helma’s house to change out of the skirt and into pants (the configuration of Alan’s plane and where the stick is located in the back seat is not skirt-friendly!), and made my way to Cherry Ridge Airport to meet Alan. It was a fabulously sunny day and my timing couldn’t have been better: as soon as I arrived and walked toward the runway, Alan landed his plane right in front of me. Another funny coincidence was when I was talking to Alan after he deplaned: a pilot I flew with several years ago — and hadn’t seen since — taxied right by us to the fuel pump. I walked over to say hello, and he told me just last Thursday a friend saw a YouTube video of him flying (with me). I had just shown Mona those same videos the night before, and here he was, fuelling his plane! [Video 1, Video 2]

Alan and I got ready for takeoff, I put on David’s headset, and away we went! We flew over Lake Wallenpaupack and over to Mount Pocono Municipal Airport for a pitstop. Mount Pocono is the airport where I met Alan for the first time that memorable weekend in October 2004. He and another Civil Air Patrol pilot, Dale, were there with the CAP plane when David and I landed and we all had lunch together. Thanks to Alan I’ve been able to fly in a Piper on David’s birthday two years in a row now. (I also scattered David’s ashes from a Piper Super Cub — Stanley Segalla’s.) Maybe by next year Alan will have his helicopter license and I can fly over the valley like I did the first time.

The crazy crosswind landing is written up in the previous post: If I Were The Pope I Would’ve Kissed The Ground. It’s those sorts of landings that don’t allow us to take the science of flying for granted.

After Alan and I landed safely, I drove to Helma’s to fetch my things, had a shower and a long nap, and made one more stop at Mona’s house. I ended up staying at Mona’s until 1am late Sunday night, when I couldn’t delay my departure any longer since the drive back to Toronto takes at least six hours and it was my first day of work at the new company on Monday. (I’m always right to the wire, I know…)

It’s taken me more than a week to write about it, but I’m pleased to declare that I completed all the missions I’d lined up for David’s birthday, and the weekend exceeded all my expectations! Many thanks to the three people who made the weekend possible: Helma, Mona, and Alan.

(Taken with permission from the rabbi.)

I went to Temple Israel on May 30 for David’s birthday and to observe yizkor. Yizkor is only four times a year, so this is a very rare event to have both his birthday and yizkor on the same day. It also happened to be Shavuot. David’s mother, Mona, said the prayers at home, and I attended the full service on behalf of his family, which now consists of only his mother and me. (His Aunt Pearl passed away August 2008.)

I’ll add more about May 30 later, I have lots to say!

It’s not actually the light of day, it’s a home light bulb. I mean, this photo is now seeing the light of day since I never uploaded it after taking it with my little point-and-shoot digicam in 2005. I’m archive-diving at the moment for another task, but it’s taken me three years to dig in the 2005 photos again. The last time I rummaged around in this collection I was too emotional to spend much time here, but I’m OK with it now. I will stop short of saying time heals, but what it does do for me is upgrade my mental batch processing system to allow for other thoughts besides mourning.

A couple of other photos I found that I never uploaded, from a trip to Philly in 2005. I haven’t edited these, they’re straight out of the Canon A80.

We learned about World War I in school, but it wasn’t until many years later in an English literature class at Simon Fraser University in 2001 that I learned the horrific details of the Great War and the reasons why it holds such an important place in history. Of course, as schoolchildren we’re spared the gruesome parts, and even 10 years after its release I can’t bring myself to watch the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan, but this was English class and it was required reading. One of the books on the list (the title of which escapes me right now) took place during World War I, and our discussions of the book were centred on the aspects of war and why the First World War was called the Great War.

A few things I took away from those discussions: trench warfare, the lack of technology, 20 million military deaths in four years. The sheer number of people who lost their lives is overwhelming — an average of more than 13,000 people each DAY, and that doesn’t include the civilian casualties. It would be the equivalent of burying the entire nation of Sri Lanka. It is no wonder that Armistice Day (“Remembrance Day” in Canada) is observed in many countries around the world. 90 years is literally a lifetime ago, but we mustn’t forget the consequences of escalated conflict and do everything to prevent it from happening again.

This medal was part of David’s belongings, but I don’t know where he got it from. On the inside of the battered jewellery case is a date, but I can only make out the year (1918), and the name of the jeweller in Jersey City, NJ. There are a few war-related items, such as photographs taken in the South Pacific during WWII (an estate sale of a war veteran–that part I do know), but this medal might’ve been acquired apart from the other items. The USA didn’t enter World War I until April 16, 1917, which explains why November 11 — a date commemorated in Canada and other Commonwealth countries with the wearing of poppies and the recitation of the poem written by a Canadian soldier, “In Flanders Fields” — is not a big deal south of the border. When I lived in Pennsylvania, it was a bit strange not to see poppies on lapels in November. I really felt like something was amiss.

Here’s the full recording of the 1917 war song "Over There" in WAV format written by George M. Cohan and performed by Billy Murray, via the U.S. Library of Congress website.

I think this was David’s kindergarten or Grade 1 photo, taken sometime in the early ’70s.

Apart from the obvious reasons, I really really wish David were alive to see today. He was a patriotic American who was frustrated with the policies of the Bush Administration. I accompanied David during the last federal election when he went to the polls on November 2, 2004. Of course, I couldn’t legally vote, but I was interested in seeing how it’s done in the States.

David was deeply disappointed with the outcome of the 2004 election, and wanted to move with me to Vancouver when Bush was elected for a second term. But David’s mother refused to leave Pennsylvania, so we decided we would live in PA as long as his mother was alive and move to Vancouver later. That later never happened.

David’s maternal grandmother, who died of cancer when he was 16*, was a political campaigner for the Democratic Party and was a major influence on David when he was growing up. (It’s his grandmother’s diamonds in our wedding rings.) He often told me stories about how his Orthodox Jewish grandmother bucked tradition by sitting with the men in temple to talk politics instead of sitting with the women, and how they couldn’t walk 20 paces in town because Rachel Schneider knew everyone and would stop and greet one and all. It was because of her that David was a proud Democrat.

In late 2005, David was impressed by Senator Obama from Illinois, and was of the opinion that Obama had the intellect and ability to lead the Democratic Party.

David, how I wish you were alive today to see how much American life has already changed in the nearly three years since you left us and how far Obama has come…

* I couldn’t help but feel sadness when I heard that Obama’s grandmother, Madelyn Dunham, who helped raise him, died of cancer over the weekend — only a few days before this historic occasion. (His mother, Ann Dunham, also died of cancer, in 1995.) Madelyn Dunham voted early, and it was made official in the state of Hawaii that her vote for her grandson counted.

May 31, 2008
Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania

Here’s to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness…”

I suppose the best way to describe my relationship with the United States, after all that I’d experienced while living there — immigration issues, marriage, the healthcare system, two elections, federal aviation policies, banking policies, the real estate market, funeral homes, insurance claims, estate matters, Social Security, exporting an automobile, and myriad other processes — is… COMPLICATED. If there is a Canadian who understands what is involved in expat life in America, at both ends of the wellness spectrum, it is me.

Yes, it’s a complicated relationship, one that is touched on from time to time even though I don’t live there anymore, because I keep going back, and there remains a bit of my American life in America. In my mind I must separate the actions of the government from the actions of the people, because it is necessary for a healthy attitude and I believe this should extend to other countries, too. Although we wish it were not so, there is often no humanity in policy. It is not an ideal world we live in, but that should not stop us from having ideals and fighting for them.

With all the media coverage on the upcoming U.S. election, I wonder what David would have to say about it. He was a very patriotic American who completely disagreed with many decisions made by the Bush administration in the last two terms of his life. I know he’d be excited and encouraged by the inroads made by the Democratic Party — he was a registered Democrat and his maternal grandmother was a campaigner for the Democratic party at a local level. (Her diamonds are in our wedding rings.) In fact, I’ve kept a tin container of campaign buttons and various items that David stashed away over the years. Now that my scanner works again, I’ll see if I can scan some in October, in the run-up to the election on November 4.

In the meantime, I leave you with some Americana for the 4th of July.

First, a glimpse into David’s Americana group on Flickr.

Second, photos from my trip to New York, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey (May 29-June 2), to celebrate the birthday of my favourite American.

View as: [thumbnails] [slideshow] or click through the Pictobrowser below

David used to poke fun at this music box: "My mother put me to sleep with a war song!"

Awwww.

David would have turned 41 years old today, so to celebrate, I went flying! Flying photos forthcoming.

I was digging through David’s stuff to find something to wear to a theme party tonight, and I came across his fraternity gear from Penn State.

David shoved this in the back of the closet because he didn’t want to get any sticky questions from his Civil Air Patrol cadets.

It wasn’t for prescribing Nyquil, put it that way.

I also came across Han Solo and a t-shirt from his childhood.

David was a total packrat. There was Star Wars memorabilia in the garage and the house, but I couldn’t haul it all to Toronto, so I kept only a few choice items. I think David was 10 years old when Star Wars mania hit.

From sometime in the early 90s, the ’stache and beard phase. It’s a picture David had framed in our house, that I now look at every day in my house.

I’ve been thinking of how long it’s been since I’ve been in a (non-commercial) airplane. Looking back, it was only October 14 (Old Rhinebeck Aerodrome), but it feels like ages.

I think I need to go up in a little plane again, to hear the roar of the engine and see the world from a couple of thousand feet in the air. It’s like therapy for me.