In Memory of Cindy and Tom

This post has nothing to do with sex, but everything to do with who I am today.

16-years-ago I was in a fatal helicopter crash with four strangers. Cindy and Tom died, three of us survived. After two days at the bottom of a canyon, we were found and airlifted to the hospital. After leaving the crash site, I have only seen one of the women once as we crossed paths at physical therapy. For some reason I’ve never looked for the women who survived with me. I’ve thought about it, but maybe if I find them it is all too real again. After this many years it has become more of a story than a tragedy. Really, just writing publicly about it for the first time makes me shake.

Still, I feel really badly that May 16th passed again and I still haven’t talked to Cindy’s son. This grates on my nerves. As she died in my arms, I promised her that I would make sure to tell her son how much she loved him, and I’ve never done it. She talked about her son up until the moment she died. I think he must be an adult now. He was maybe 3 when we crashed.  I’d really like to talk to him.  So if you know Cynthia Ann Aason (Aasen?), please get in touch with me.