My Unsent Message From The Sky
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Summary
The turbulence on the flight home was violent, the kind that makes your stomach drop and the cabin scream. At the boundary between life and death, with my hands shaking, I dialed Griffith’s number, desperate to hear his voice one last time, to leave him my final words.
He hung up on the second ring.
An automated text popped up a second later: Driving. On my way to pick up Leona.
In our five years of marriage, I’ve flown eighty-six times. Before every single landing, I would send him a tentative text, asking if he might be free to pick me up.
