They say that as you die your whole life flashes before your eyes. In David's case, it was more like pieces of his life.
As a little boy, David used to gaze up in wonder at the birds in the sky and believe that someday he might be up there with them. He'd talked about it incessantly to his parents who'd indulged him until one fateful day when he'd tried jumping off his swing. After that they'd made it very clear to him that little boys couldn't fly. He'd bowed his head and accepted this but had still been naïve enough to ask if things might be different if he weren't a little boy. If maybe when he was grown up, when he was a man…? A stern look from his father had been all the answer he'd needed.
So, he'd grown out of his childhood wonderment. That was until his parents had decided to take him on a trip to D.C. It'd been his first time up in the air and seeing the clouds out the window had rekindled his fascination with the flight. On the journey home he'd even been allowed inside the cockpit, an experience which had determined the rest of his life.
After much study and struggle he achieved his dream. But the day he'd earned his pilot licence simply didn't compare to the very first time he'd actually taken a plane up himself. The anticipation alone had given him butterflies in his stomach. But actually lifting off from the ground? That'd felt like nothing else in his life. He'd been completely outside of himself, moving by instinct alone.
A twitch in his hand could drift the plane to the left. A tense in his arm could send it up higher into the heavens. He'd been one with the vehicle. Almost like he was defying gravity all on his own. For the third time in his life, that childlike wonder had hit him.
It'd also been the last.
Over time, the repetitiveness of his job wore down all the wonder and all the thrill he had of departing the Earth to traverse the skyways. Even when he'd watched the Moon landing less than ten years ago, his mind had been more curious than thrilled. He'd considered how experienced Armstrong and Aldrin were, what kind of training N.A.S.A must've put them through, the kind of flying techniques they might've employed, etc. But the magic of the moment wasn't there for him as it might've been for most other viewers.
He had at least shared in the collective moment of pride that the landing had brought the whole country. It was a pride that he felt far more acutely some years later when he'd landed a job piloting Air Force One. But pride, though definitely rewarding, just… wasn't the same. He still enjoyed his work of course. But sometimes he just felt nostalgic for that magical feeling he'd had as a youngster.
On occasion he'd admitted his feelings to his buddy Dick. The pair had worked together on occasion before David had gotten the Presidential gig. On David's recommendation Dick had landed a job in the cockpit right behind him just a year or so later. Dick was an all-round great guy and had often tried to lift David's spirits whenever he was being a downer. To a lesser extent Dick understood David's position, the big difference though was that he still looked out for the 'magic' in his life. Privately, David thought this was kind of a waste of energy on Dick's part, but at the same time wished he could be more like him.
That was especially true in their current predicament.
The co-pilot had just told him the weather wasn't looking too good when lighting had suddenly struck the plane! The bolt had completely destroyed one of the engines on the left wing, sending the plane downwards. All five crew members had done their best not to panic, but they couldn't help being frantic, scrambling to do something, anything, to level off, to stop the plane's rapid descent.
In his heart of hearts, David knew their efforts were pointless. He wasn't about to give up, he owed that much to everyone else on board. However, his heart still despaired as he ran through everything he could think of. Every possible check. Every routine his years of experience had drilled into him. Every nightmare scenario he'd practiced over and over a million times, never once truly believing any of them might come to pass.
He kept going, his knuckles white upon the controls. But, like a slowly deflating balloon, he was beginning to lose hope.
They were falling...
Falling…
Fal-
The readouts from the cockpit began to change. At first David thought his mind was playing tricks on him, making him see what he wanted to see from the readouts. But as he focused more, he couldn't deny the evidence before him. They'd stopped falling, somehow the plane was levelling off!
David began to wonder if his mind had in fact been tricking him earlier. Could their engine have merely seemed damaged? No. That couldn't be right. Someone else in the cockpit had outright said that they'd lost the entire thing.
Nevertheless, David chanced a glance to his left, out the window and towards where the engine should've been. For the third time in less than five minutes, he thought he might be seeing things.
It was a…
He was…
In red and blue…
With a big flapping…
And did he just salute him!?
His mouth agape, David waved back automatically before catching himself. He stared at his hand, as if it'd done something outrageous without his permission.
"What the hell happened," called the co-pilot, "we got our engine back? What the hell's going on out there?
David turned away from the window to address the co-pilot. His face was no longer dumbfounded. Rather he wore a sort of confused, yet pleased expression.
"Fly. Don't look, just fly. We got... something. I ain't saying what it is. Just...trust me."
With that, he turned back to the window. It was then that he realised Dick was staring out of it too. The pair looked at each other. David knew that Dick was searching his face, hoping to confirm that he wasn't going crazy.
David knew that because it was the exact same reason he was looking at Dick. Dick convinced him of he was seeing. In a way, Dick made David believe in it altogether.
Something welled up within him. Something old. Something familiar. It remained with David throughout the journey. However, to his mild surprise it never disappeared. He carried it with him for the rest of his life, sharing it with everyone else whenever and wherever he could.
It was magic.
It was a sense of childlike wonderment.
It was… a belief.
A belief that a man can fly…
Rest in Peace Richard Donner.