Didn't Have it in Myself

I'm Sorry

I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace. 

I never was graceful, even in my early days. Tripping up the stairs was the most common, followed closely by being a very awkward little girl. It was a trait I had carried with me throughout my life. 

A life that was, to everyone but me, over. Over too soon, over without goals being reached. A thing to celebrate in the saddest way possible. 

The sun lit up the dew-covered grass. Everyone wore smiles as they reminisced on memories I featured in. Photographs covered a board, no frowns to be found along the bright colours and giggle-filled prints. 

The flowers lit up the space more than the sun did. Bright, warm colours littered among the cooler hues. Purple was most prominent, the most found colour in any of the bouquets. 

She was brave, I heard my mother say, holding a program with a picture of me. I couldn’t make out what it was, but I trusted my parents and what picture they had chosen. To them, almost any picture of me was a good one. 

My younger sister glanced over to the hill I resided on, but she couldn’t see me. The grand, towering tree hid me amongst its shadow. I could see the wistful look in her eye. I’d told her something, a secret. She had a theory, but I proved her wrong by being hidden. So she turned, hope fading from her eyes.

The graceful folding of the flag was different from a normal military funeral. After all, there was no casket to lay a flag over, just a deep, wide hole in the ground. My family seemed almost hopeful when no body had been recovered from the crash. Like they knew there was some chance their baby girl hadn’t died in the terrible accident. 

Or, at least, what they thought was an accident. I got into my plane and took off, knowing I’d never make it back to the base. The golden glow of the sun faded as the darkness overtook it. Stars flickered into the sky, ready to guide me towards my goal. Ready to watch over me when the time comes. 

Engine failure. Alarms, loud but almost calming. Reassuring that the plan was working. Bright lights, summoning my attention only for me to ignore them. 

I’m going down, I won't make it! I was desperate, even though I had planned the whole thing. I can’t eject in time. 
We are sending pararescue. Send your current position, they tried, they were hopeful. They had done this before. This time, they would soon learn, was different. This time, they wouldn’t be able to save someone. 

They’d try to blame the flight crew who had checked the plane just before takeoff. They’d blame the route and the conditions. They’d blame themselves for not reaching the beacon of burning wreckage in time. There was no blame to pass along, it was all mine to take. The blame went down with me in a burning blaze of hope, glory and guilt. 

They- they won’t make it in time. I cried as I looked up and watched the stars fade behind the blanket of smoke. I had no control, I’d lost a wing. I simply fell in a beautifully elegant glide, landing in a lake that parted with the aircraft. I would’ve been killed, had it not been for the lavender shield that aided my escape. 

They’d need to believe I was dead. The dog tag engulfed by the wet sand and pushed around by the movement of the disturbed water did just fine. I thought they’d look for a body, but the plane had become nothing but ashes and melted materials when they arrived, smoke curling through the sky. 

The flag was folded neatly, the blanket of stars the only thing visible from my vantage point. A well-dressed soldier presented it to my parents, who held it as delicate as a newborn baby. A collection of bright fabrics to replace the bright personality of their daughter. It wasn’t a fair trade, but it was all they could get. A silver chain with a rounded label hung from my father’s hands, reflecting the sun’s rays.