What a Deathbed Promise Cost Me

by J.L.Canfield

It began as a normal Sunday. I plotted what I needed to do versus wanted to do. My dog needed a bath, and I wanted to take a long walk. But like most days, things didn’t go as planned. A phone call from a friend disrupted my life.

“Hey, you want to jump out of a plane today?” This was not a question I expected to hear in my lifetime. It certainly wasn’t how someone greets you, anytime, unless they are your life insurance beneficiary and need money.

“Why?” I said. It was the only response that came to mind. Why would anyone ever want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane? Who would want to hope a large piece of fabric would deploy and guide them safely to the ground? It was not on my bucket list of things I must do before I die. But it was on hers.

When she explained to me why she called and asked, I found myself in a conundrum.

I had promised her father before he died, I would stay in her life but I thought it would be as a wise guide, occasional babysitter for her son,?and a shoulder to cry on, not as a bucket list fulfiller partner.

Before answering, I reasoned. I could make the trip with her and watch her fall out of a plane flying a couple of miles above the earth. It’s always nice to take an unplanned road trip. Who said I had to jump? I’d never been around a group of skydivers and it would be interesting to learn why people did this for fun. Couldn’t I go only for moral support, the cheerleader to keep her courage up, or the bearer of bad news to her mother if something went wrong? A voice inside me said do it, say yes. I waited for another one to say no. When I kept hearing yes, not the loud no I wanted, I agreed to go.

When she arrived at my house, I offered to drive and so we set off on an adventure I was not sure about.

On the journey, Erin told me about where we were headed and why this place. She had done her homework on this, read the reviews from all the sites listed in our state that offered this experience, and spoken with people she knew that had survived falling from the sky. At least, this was not a madcap scheme her younger self would have done. She knew a five-year-old waited at home for her to finish raising.

After her explanations, I still wasn’t convinced I would do this, but I felt better knowing she had chosen this place after much research and careful thought.

When we arrived, I commented on the sheriff’s office across from the skydive center. “Oh good,” I said. “We have help close by should something go wrong.”

After we checked in, watched the too-short training video on jumping from a plane, and signed an eight-page legal document that repeatedly stated the company could not be held responsible or sued should we suffer a serious injury or death, I asked again why she wanted to throw herself out of a plane.

“It was something I always had planned to do with my father. It was on our bucket list of things to do together if his health improve. I’m doing this for Dad.”

“I see.” Her answer sealed my fate. I had made a deathbed promise to her dad to be there for her. Now I had to stand, or in this case, jump on my word.

“OK” was my only answer.

We chatted with others around us. Some were military paratroopers, and some were enthusiasts. As a writer, I am more prone to listen to conversations than joining in. One young lady in a flight suit told another she had been on anti-depressants for fourteen years. I leaned over to Erin and said, “If she’s whom I am assigned to jump with, I’m bailing kid. If she’s feeling suicidal today, I have no desire to die with her.”

A young man next to us asked his girlfriend if she wanted to kill him. She was excited about this insane idea of willingly falling through the sky. He was not. I was glad to hear I wasn’t the only one sitting in that hangar wondering why this seemed like a fine idea.

A gentleman named Mike walked over and introduced himself as Erin’s jump partner and identified himself as a retired Marine paratrooper. Erin shared. “My dad was Army. I guess he’ll be ok with you jumping with me. However, if we die, watch out. He’ll be waiting at the gate to talk to you.” Mike laughed and assured her all will be well, even if he was only a jarhead.

Twenty minutes later, we were called over to a table where Mike and my jump partner, Steve, waited. Erin went with Mike. I followed Steve to where our crash course in jumping would take place. We suited up in flight suits and gloves as our instructors walked us through what was going to happen once we boarded that plane. Next, they guided us into a harness which was adjusted to fit snugly around our bodies. Steve put an altimeter on my wrist. No one had mentioned this in the training. He explained it allowed me to see how high we were and gauge when it was time to deploy the shoot. I shared with him there were some things I did not need to know in life. How high the plane was when I jumped from it was one of them.

He then went over with me how to position my body, where to place my arms before the jump, and keep them while in free fall.

“When I tap your shoulder, release your thumbs and put your arms out. You’ll feel you’re flying.”

I’m sure my skepticism showed on my face. There was no way my outstretched arms could make me feel like a soaring bird. “Arms out when tapped. Got it,” was what I said. I spoke with more confidence than I felt.

On the plane, Steve finished tethering me to him and I looked out the windows, mentally ran through the jump steps, and eased my breathing to match his.

During the mental run-through, I realized, no one had said how we maneuver into position to jump. They line you up in rows facing the front of the plane, but the place you jump from is on the side. We were on the left side, the door on the right. This had not been gone over. All I had been told was to dangle my legs out of the door before leaving the plane and, to stick them out for landing.

“Don’t worry. It’s a quick roll. I’ll get us into position.”

It was that answer that made me realize there was nothing I could do but follow his instructions and trust him completely. Trusting a man I know is something I struggle with. Yet, here I was on a plane preparing to depart in a less-than-usual way and bound to a stranger I had met just an hour before.

We jumped at 13,000 feet. Steve deployed the chute between 6000-8000 feet. Until then, we fell at a speed of 120 miles per minute. All I could do was push aside my fear and give in to trust.

Dropping through the clouds was one of the coldest sensations I have ever felt and I spent four years in far upstate NY. I knew cold. Yet it was also one of the most freeing. Gravity is not our friend, but this time was different.

I carried a huge emotional bag of distrust in males when I boarded that plane. Gravity took it from me. Distrust had fit me like a glove. In the air, it flew off me bit by bit. Fear of trusting is what gave me the strength to carry it.

I did not feel like I was flying when I outstretched my arms, only falling, but I attempted to fall with grace. Tethered to Steve felt like we were falling together. If I die from this, I will not be alone.?

Every foot we dropped took off one more pound of distrust and replaced it with ease. I was safe with this stranger who only wanted to share his love of skydiving with others. Fear can’t thrive where security lives.

My feet dangled now that we could relax from the arch position and the ground below look like a patchwork quilt, ready to nestle us in its comfort.

Trust is a thin thread that holds us steady. We easily knotted it up in anxiety and severed it with words or actions. Trust is hard to mend and becomes harder to give the more times that line gets cut, especially to people we know. With time the ability to trust is replaced by opting to fear instead.

The lack of ability to trust had been around in me for so long, I had not seen it as a weight or a wedge, or even a fortress around my heart. It was just a part of me. But that’s what it was, a barrier that kept me from forming close friendships and deep relationships. A wall that stopped me from growing kept me from experiencing what life offered to me. That wall was fear.

Falling from the heavens removed it.

A jump from a plane is a leap of faith. Faith is tied to trust.

I can now equate entering into relationships and friendships as jumping from a plane. I must accept the risks that come with making a leap of faith and falling through the unknown, believing that the person who is with me will not?sever the thin cord of trust. Now that I shed the coat of fear I can try to embrace trust in order to fully live and enjoy all that life offers.?

The tough part of living now will be not reaching for that comfortable coat and buttoning it up snuggly, again when I step or leap into unknown areas of life.?

Fear must never win over Faith! Fear can not hold up Trust!

Life is only lived fully when Trust and Faith bind up fear.?

That is how I choose to live.