I never liked Mr. Milowicki much. He had his nose in everyone’s business, and he talked like he knew it all. One day he found out I hadn’t taken my checkride yet, but I was well over the minimum hours required, I had received my sign off, and he knew I was looking for every excuse in the book to get out of completing the training because I was scared of failing. He pulled me into his office, looked me square in the eye, told me it was time to put on my big girl panties and get the checkride over with. 

I never looked at him the same again. He was the kick in the pants I needed. I also realized that day he was in the same squadron as my late husband, and they shared an affinity for the S-3. 

This week 2 pilots committed suicide using their airplanes. I think of Mr. Milowicki a lot, but this week especially. I wish I had thanked him for the inspiration. Maybe if he knew he had inspired even just one of us at the college, his life would have been a bit different. 

Fair winds, GM

My brother isn’t here any more.

That may seem like a rather obvious thing to say but - let me tell you - it has taken me all this time to be able to say those words and actually know that they are true.  And there are still some days when it doesn’t seem real.  Those days are fewer in number than they used to be, but they still occur.  It usually happens when I look at pictures of him.  How can this vibrant, smiling face not exist anymore?  There is something so surreal about seeing a picture of someone you never got to say goodbye to. In my brother’s case, he quite literally vanished.  His plane went down and he was never found.  Or my disbelief happens when someone I don’t know very well asks me about my family, and the inevitable question comes up about how many siblings I have.  That question takes my breath away every time it comes at me.

Yes – I still have those days when it is not real for me.

September 23, 2012, is the day that my brother Gene took his own life in the midst of some unspeakably tragic circumstances and, clearly, unbearable pain.  It has been one year since this happened – a year which I now refer to as the Year of Firsts.  And I am glad the Year of Firsts is finally over.  We have managed to survive the first day after learning the news; the first Christmas without him; the first occasion of his birthday since his death; the first full family photo taken with Gene missing; the first Mother’s Day that my mother had to endure without her son; and, now, the first anniversary of his death. Yes – I am glad that this year has come to an end.            

I will forever view that day as a dividing line in my life – life before September 23, 2012, and life after September 23, 2012.  That day changed me for sure, as it has changed my other family members and many of Gene’s friends.  I don't think any of us can ever be the same. 

One thing that I have learned in the Year of Firsts is that I think we really struggle with letting people know how much they mean to us and how they’ve touched our lives while the people are still here on Earth with us.  In my brother’s case, I am quite certain that he had no idea of the multitudes of people who care deeply about him and miss him greatly.  I have met dozens of them in the past year – and when I look into their eyes that invariably well up with tears at the mere mention of his name, I am overwhelmed by the depth of their emotion for this man that I knew as my little brother.  What a great man he was – in ways that, in some cases, I did not even know about until he was gone. 

I miss my brother terribly.  We always lived so far apart from each other from the time we left the house and went to college, and getting together was never very convenient.  I wish I had been better at writing letters and cards to him while he was away on long deployments during his Navy career.  I wish I had made more of an effort to call him more often and just check in.  I wish I had had more opportunities to see him doing the things he loved to do.  I wish I had found a way to cheer him on as he ran one of his marathons.  I wish I had been able to go see an air show with him.  I wish we had made time to take a real vacation together rather than just a quick couple of days together every now and then. I wish we could have gone to Paris together.  We talked about that a lot, but never made it happen. 

I guess I just wish we had had more time.

My brother was an amazing man.  Not perfect by any means, but truly amazing.  He was absolutely brilliant beyond anything that I have the ability to comprehend.  He was an aviator, a submariner, a nuclear engineer, a Francophile, a military strategist, a marathoner, a scholar, an incredibly gifted writer, a marksman, a cat lover, an avid reader, and a perfectionist.  He was a son, a brother, a husband, an uncle, a godfather, a boss, a teacher, a mentor, and a friend.  He was honest to a fault, and conducted his life by the highest moral code.  He was generous, responsible, independent, gentle in spirit, and passionate about everything he did.  It is important to continue to remind myself of all of these things, so that I remember the 48 years of his life that he lived so well, and not the final two months of his life that were filled with such darkness and pain.  I do not know if he lived with this darkness for longer than his final two months; I guess he must have, but I can tell you that I never saw it.    

There are reminders of him everywhere I turn.  I have photographs, certainly, but I never realized until all of this happened how many things I have around my office and my home that came from him.  I save just about everything that anyone has ever given me, so I have all the cards and letters and postcards he sent to me from all over the world.  I have little bits of Navy memorabilia that I never even realized I had collected – paperweights, hats, ship patches, and pendants.  I have birthday and Christmas gifts that he gave to me over the years, including my favorite two – a beautiful wood inlay music box from Sorrento and a stuffed white tiger.  Oh yes – and the GPS device he bought for me that I no longer have use for but I can now never get rid of.  I have a box of newspaper clippings of his achievements over the years, along with programs from his Naval Academy graduation and his retirement from the Navy.  I posted a photo of him shaking hands with President Ronald Reagan as he received his Naval Academy diploma.  That was a day that we will never forget.  I have the shirt and other souvenirs I bought when my youngest brother Tom and I visited Gene in Rhode Island, and he took us on such a wonderful tour of Newport and Boston.  I have some of his French novels that he had left at my mom’s house once he moved out on his own. And I suppose the greatest treasure that I have is one of the models he built of one of his favorite helicopters – something that he made with his own hands that I look at every day to keep him near.  I am surrounded with memories of him, and I will forever cherish these objects that transport me back to the experiences that we shared together over the years.  I am so very proud of him – in awe of him, really.  Did I tell him that often enough?  I hope I did, but I don’t really know.  I hope he knew… 

I love my brothers with all my heart.  I have four of them.  One of them is an angel sitting on my shoulder…  

I only knew Gene from his time at FSCJ.  Besides our love of aviation, we shared a love of cats.  I was also his flight instructor at FSCJ for his commercial pilot certificate rating in airplanes - single engine.  I truly enjoyed the time we worked together at the college.  He was a rare person of vision, energy, passion, and integrity.  I will miss the flying - and the talks about our cats!

I have known Gene since he came to work for the College. I was over Facilites and Maintenance for Kent Campus which the Aviation Center reported to. I asked Gene one day if he would be a guest speaker at a police escorted motorcycle ride to raise scholarship funds for the FSCJ Foundation to support Wounded Vets from the Wounded Warrior Project. Not only did Gene agree to speak at this event on behalf of the College, as someone who rides a motorcycle, Gene rode with us on the ride. This bolstered my friendship with Gene as we had something in common outside of work. Gene always seemed like he really enjoyed working in the field of aviation. But most of all Gene served our country honorably as a flyboy in the Military and as I am someone who strongly supports our Military, that is what I respected most of him. I always say: "if you can stand behind our troops, feel free to stand in front of them". Gene not onloy served, he supported. I was proud to know Gene and will miss him dearly. 

Attached from Colonel Andy Solgere, USMC.  In memory of Gene