Page 109 of The Accidental Text

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Translation: nope.

He holds up the cylinder urn, the one holding my mom’s ashes. “I guess it’s time, then.”

My dad yells for Devon, who’s been flirting it up with some girls for the past fifteen minutes. He says goodbye to them, but not before one of them types her number into his phone. Devon, it would seem, hasn’t changed all that much in the last three months.

We put our stuff in a locker, take our rigs, then head out of the hangar and stand with our group to wait for our plane.

“Kiss for good luck?” Chelsea asks as we wait, her voice breaking on the last word. She gives us all a kiss on the cheek, and I think we’re all feeling so many emotions right now.

I take a couple of cleansing breaths because I still feel anxious. But because I’m resigned to do this, I just push it away. It’s probably not my best move, but it’ll get me through.

We load up on the plane, a group of ten going up, and buckle in. The most dangerous part of this entire thing is the takeoff. Before I can freak out or back out, we’re off, speeding down the runway. I wasn’t really going to back out. But I did entertain the thought for just a few seconds.

We climb up into the sky. It takes about twelve minutes toget to thirteen thousand feet. I look out the window I’m sitting next to, watching the ground below us get farther and farther away.

I realize something as I watch the buildings and the cars get smaller. The ashes that my dad is currently holding in his hand, in that white cylinder container, are all I have left of her. This is it. When my mom’s ashes go up into the sky, that’s my one last tether to her. My one last connection. I wonder if this has been my problem all along. Maybe I wasn’t really worried someone would get hurt—maybe I couldn’t deal with the finality of what we’re doing.

I’m crying now—big fat tears. I look over at Chelsea and she’s crying too. I reach over and grab her gloved hand and squeeze it.

About a thousand feet before we reach altitude, we start getting ready. Taking off our seat belts, putting on our helmets, doing a final gear check. Then we do this thing that everyone does before a jump; it’s like this little hand slap thing. It’s happened on every jump I’ve ever done. Like a good luck tradition.

Once at thirteen thousand feet, the pilot gives the signal to open the door. We let the other group go before us so we can exit the way we need to link up.

The feeling washes over me again. This final jump with my mom. This is all I have left. I want to stay on this plane and refuse to do it. But I know that I can’t. I have to do this for Devon, for Chelsea, and for my dad. I can’t let them down again.

When it’s our turn, the four of us squeeze out the door together, our backs facing outward. We’re each holding on to the inside of the doorframe so we can jump at the same time, sowe can do it just like we practiced with Mom. It feels almost like clockwork. If only I didn’t feel so empty right now. So … sad.

Once we’re all leaning out of the plane and ready to go, my dad nods his head and we let go.

And then we’re falling, though it doesn’t feel like falling. It feels like you’re suspended in air. I’m close enough to Chelsea that I can grab on to her by her gripper. Devon has Dad by his, and we easily link up, Chelsea grabbing on to Devon. Just like we practiced. Mom—if she’s watching this—would be so proud.

We all look to my dad and he nods his head just once. Then he opens the top of the cylinder urn, and we watch as my mom’s ashes fly into the sky. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking and we did exactly what she wanted us to. I feel happiness that we were able to pull it off, but also such sadness. It’s over. That was it. The tether is gone.

My dad gives us a thumbs-up and we drop away, giving each other enough space to deploy our parachutes. I let mine go first and feel the tug as my drop slows. I watch as the rest of my family’s chutes deploy.

I’m by myself now, just me canopying through the sky, the world coming closer to me by the second. I guide myself toward the landing.

“Love you, Mom,” I say. I can’t help but feel close to her right now, up here in the sky. I can picture her, in her favorite teal jumpsuit with white detailing. Her grin wide as she flies through the sky, giving me a thumbs-up as she does one of the things she loved most.

And then an overwhelming realization comes to me. It’s a ton of information at once, but I feel it in my bones, like I’veknown it all along. I haven’t wanted to do this because of the finality of it all. But … it isn’t over.

I’ve been such a fool.

Thisis the tether. It’s still here. I can feel her right now, flying beside me. Smiling at me. Cheering me on. She’s been there when I was ATVing, zip-lining, cliff diving, and riding a bike through a quiet desert night. She’s there in every hug from my family, every kiss for good luck, every time I touch the necklace with her initial on it. The connection isn’t gone; she’ll always be with me.

She willalwaysbe with me.

I smile at this realization. I smile, and I laugh, and I cry.

After our landing, when we’ve gathered up our chutes, my dad pulls us into a family hug. I’m sobbing as we hold each other. We all are.

“We did it,” Dad says, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I love you all so much. Your mom loved you all so much.”

We hug each other. There are tears and laughter, and it’s just how she’d have wanted it.

Once we’ve pulled ourselves together, we go inside and drop off our rigs to be repacked. Devon grabs our stuff from the locker and brings it to us while we wait for our gear.

My cheeks hurt from smiling, and my nose feels raw from crying. I feel happy and tired and grateful. What a day it’s been. And it’s only nine thirty in the morning. But I feel like I’ve experienced so much, so many feelings in the past hour, that it feels like it should be the end of the day, like the sun should be going down.

---