Sam loved to fly. He used to own his own airplane, and had many pilot friends. He never missed the local air shows, and if he heard an aircraft overhead, he'd bolt out of his house to see what it was and where it was going. Now as I mourn his loss I think he sends me birds, sailing in formation back and forth across the sky. I find a feather at my back door and say, "Why thank-you Sam!" through my tears.
