It has been three months, five days and six hours since the fateful call. The blindsight call with no explanation. I have been “released” from my contract.
The flying circus has left town, less the clown, and a camel has sat on my flying carpet of Arabia. One day a friend, the next a pariah.
It has taken this long just to reduce the emotions of anger, bitterness, disbelief and lack of closure to a simmer. It is terribly vexing without details, logic, or of why; and I am filled with angst with loose ends and unfinished
And so the “strum und drang” begins and life goes on. I am now looking for my twelfth job with wings. Three bankruptcies, three shutdowns, and now a “release from contract” adding to the colour of my vision. Grateful for, yet despite my syncopated perspectives, aviation has not been kind in career, and my once bright avocation has turned into dark perturbations.
The most profoundly difficult human nature to accept, I have realized, is change – wayfaring the quicksilver of life. The Phoenix shall rise again in some form, some where, without doubt…