I think I was feeling esoteric and super philosophical...
My cousin flew jets for years. That man is happiest flying Mach 4 with his hair on fire. Period. He was the adreline junkie... I was the book worm... and for whatever reason, he really took a liking to me. We were buds. I think we even got married when we were 8. He wanted to be an astronaut. And that is exactly what he set out to do. He didn't make it... actually, when he found out the program, he didn't WANT to do it anymore... so... he decided to fly jets. And he did, for many years.
He can't fly now. He's been reassigned to a desk job, and when you are in the military, tough noogies. That was so tough on him... flying a private plane after an F14 is like flying a toy... so it isn't just a matter of going up there and piloting around.
The only thing that saves him is that he doesn't see himself ONLY as a pilot. He does not say... I am a pilot that CAN'T fly. Nothing about 'pilot' colors who he is... at his core. He loves to fly. He loves BEING a pilot. He misses it very much.
He's very busy exploring what other things he CAN do that might give him as big a thrill as flying. Tall order, but he's having himself quite a time finding out... To sit and mourn the loss of flying what he wants to fly would completely ruin his life. And he just isn't willing to let that happen.
To sit and mourn the loss of flying what he wants to fly would completely ruin his life. And he just isn't willing to let that happen.