Stories of Life

Spread Your Wings And Fly

by Diane Dettmann

After the death of my husband in 2000, I struggled with a variety issues related to loss. Anxiety was one of them. In spite of all the air travel I did with my husband, John, and for work, I often found myself in a state of panic when faced with flying alone. I worried about everything.

What if I miss the flight?

What if my luggage gets lost?

And the worst…What if the plane crashes!

When information for attending the “Southern California Writers’ Conference” appeared in my mailbox, my travel anxiety roared its ugly head. I really wanted to attend the conference even if it was just to prove to myself I could overcome my fear of flying alone.

After rereading the email, I thought maybe my friend who lives in the San Diego area would be interested in going. Inspired by her reply, “yes!” I forged ahead. After charging the conference registration fee and hotel room on my Visa, all I had left to do was book my flight.

I knew I could cancel my room and get my money back from the conference, but once I paid for my airfare there was no turning back. 

A few days later, late one night, I signed on to Delta’s site and booked the flight.

Packing my suitcase the day before departure, the “what ifs” tumbled through my head and hung with me all the way to the airport. With my suitcase rolling along behind me, I stopped in front of the “check in” computers, slid my Visa card in and to my surprise navigated the process like a pro.

With my boarding pass in hand I hurried toward the “luggage drop” line. An agent greeted me with a smile. Watching my suitcase wobble along the conveyor belt, I prayed it would end up in San Diego. After a smooth trip through security and a cup of coffee in hand, I made my way to Gate 19.

When they called “zone 3” I double-checked my boarding pass and inched my way down the narrow aisle. Everything was going great as I settled into seat 20B.

Suddenly, the pilot announced, “Sorry folks, we have a slight delay in our departure. Should take about thirty minutes to change the flat tire and deice the plane. Flat tire! I leaned my head back, closed my eyes and said a prayer to calm me down.

In spite of the delay, it was a smooth flight. When we finally landed in San Diego, I gathered my luggage, slid into the back seat of a cab and soaked up the warm sunshine flowing through the window. After checking into the hotel, I hailed another cab and went to visit an old neighbor who lived across the street from my family in Minneapolis in the 1950s. When I rang the doorbell, my Japanese friend, Art, greeted me with a huge smile and a hug. A month shy of ninety-eight, he still had a sharp mind and a great sense of humor. We shared stories about life in the 1950s, his memories of the war years and the friendship between our two families.

The next day as the conference started, I looked for Cherie, but she hadn’t arrived yet. I worried that she might have canceled at the last minute due to health problems that had plagued her for the past several years. I hoped she was okay.

I attended the first session alone. When it was over, I spied Cherie, healthy and vibrant, standing by the registration table. As soon as our eyes met, smiles spread across our faces and we wrapped our arms around each other in long hug.

Over the next three days, we studied our schedules deciding which sessions to do together. Every so often we’d sit down and revise our plan, laughing as we crossed out one session and drew arrows to our new choices. Five minutes later, we stared at our scribbled notes and laughed as we tried to remember where we were headed and what we had decided. 

The next morning, Cherie missed a couple of sessions so she could rest. Her health is better, but she still gets fatigued if she pushes herself too hard. On Sunday, I attended the morning session alone. The speaker, Bhava Ram (Brad Willis), a former NBC war correspondent, shared his amazing story of facing death and returning to a healthy life through the use of Yoga and other natural, self-healing approaches. He ended the session with a breathing exercise— just what I needed before heading home.

After a tearful “goodbye” to Cherie, I left San Diego recharged and energized. As the plane lifted off, a calm flowed over me. I wasn’t worried about lost luggage or much of anything else—well, except crashing. My successful solo flight had proved, I could spread my wings and fly! 

Read more about my grief journey challenges in my memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels: A Widow's Story of Love, Loss and Renewal at http://www.outskirtspress.com/snowangels Available in ebook and paperback.