Gravity's Embrace: A True Unsolved Mystery Surrounding An Alaskan Pilot

By Cynthia Young Fackrell

Experience the suspense of searching for a missing pilot and his plane in the vast Alaskan wilderness. Relate to the heartache of a missing loved one. Learn appreciation for life within grief and uncertainty and how goodbyes lead to new hellos.
In the winter of 1992 a pilot departs North Pole, Alaska, flying toward Homer, Alaska… but never arrives. Twelve days of searching reveals no sign of him, but his hopeful family continues to search. His sister recounts this true story entwined with emotion, suspense, and intriguing mystery, which includes prophetic journal entries from the pilot.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9780989742313

Book preview

www.GravitysEmbrace.com

TIM’S PROPHETIC LETTER

It happened at 20,000 feet, what many said could never happen or would never. In one split second it happened – a flash of movement and then disaster. One big concussion and it was tumbling hopelessly out of control in space, a ball of flames and metal. The chute came out, but that didn’t matter anyway. It was all over and this man knew it. A few moments ago he was fine, but in those few moments his life had been torn from his hands by a force so powerful it was beyond anyone’s ability. It was his own doom. He had prepared and worked for it all his life and now he had to face it too. It was not a cruel end – for many men find a crueler one.

Chapter 1

UNACCOUNTED FOR

Watching an airplane disappear into the fog with someone of value to you on board. It really makes you appreciate how enormous this world really is. A person could lose track of someone out there and never see them again.

It’s very, very big, especially in the fog.

Till next time.

Tim’s Journal January 4, 1986

It was early October of 1992 and winter was well underway in interior Alaska. Snow covered the ground by a foot or two. I was happy that my brother, Tim, had taken time to visit us. My children loved having him here. It was delightful to watch him play around the house and in the snow with them. We were all enjoying his visit.

Tim, being a private pilot, owned his own airplane. He bought it the summer before and had done a lot of flying in it. He had flown up from Homer, Alaska, where he was living, to visit us at our home on Eielson Air Force Base.

For the last three days, Tim had been waiting for decent weather to fly back in. I liked having him at my home, and I didn’t want him to leave. Although we had seen him several times during the summer, the visits never seemed long enough. Due to the fact that we lived far apart and his life style, I didn’t get to see him as much as I would have liked to.

Goodbyes – I’m sitting here trying to hold myself up right now. I just don’t know what to think. At times I have hated him – right now I feel closer to him than anyone in my life – he is my brother. What have we in common? – I don’t know – nothing more than a lifetime I guess. I almost want to feel sad – I really don’t want to see him go. Yet I know it is time – some things are to be this way. Without this space between us we could never be close. He is the only person I feel I can appreciate and love more because we go our own ways – Maybe because I know down inside that we are almost always together in spirit – We will always meet again. Funny but I can care about no one else and be so free with them.

The other day I was sitting somewhere, not really even thinking and I realized another strange twist in life – The farther apart my family seems to be, the closer we are.

Tim’s Journal October 11, 1983

The last several days, the weather had been rather bleak. Tim was now waiting for some good conditions he could fly safely home in. Today, October 9th, presented what seemed like a window of good weather that he could finally leave in.

Tim and I quickly gathered up his belongings and packed them in my truck. We proceeded to the airport in North Pole, Alaska where his plane was parked. At approximately 1:15 in the afternoon, Tim’s heavily loaded plane lifted off the runway and flew towards Homer. I stood and watched as he flew off, his plane growing smaller in the distance. My usual tradition is to stay until the plane is not visible, but this time I told myself that all would be fine, that I would be seeing him soon again, so I got into my truck and drove home. Still, it hung in my mind that I had strayed from my tradition.

At around 8:00 pm that evening, I looked out my kitchen window, observing the cold, white snow piled on the ground, and was overcome with a fearful, concerned feeling for Tim. I was waiting for a phone call saying he was stopped somewhere or home. I called my older brother, Tom, who also lived in Homer, to ask if he had seen or heard from Tim. I told him that Tim had left that afternoon and should be there soon if he had flown straight through. Tom said he had not, and thought he may have stopped in Anchorage. I said alright, still somewhat concerned. Maybe he had stopped somewhere for the night. I would wait until tomorrow for a phone call or confirmation of his arrival in Homer. I told Tom to let me know if he heard anything.

I let most of the next day go by without hearing anything from Tim. By now, I was really concerned. I felt something may be wrong and I needed to find him. I wondered if I should call to start a search for him, although he could be stopped somewhere, and fine. I had to grapple with my feelings of fear that he needed help somewhere, although I knew that he was capable of taking care of himself. If I started a search and he was fine, I was worried that he would be angry with me. This fear kept me from making that call.

I can just see it. My spirit is way out there just totally flyin’ along in space… Telephone wires barely nicken’ my wings, grass all blown up and around, exhaust blackening the poles, bein’ so low you look up to see the flowers…

How would you like to dance with the endless power lines of America? Bouncing around in between them. Oh my heart lives there.

And someday, so shall I…

Tim’s Journal 1976

That evening I called my brother Tom once again, hoping that Tim had shown up. Tom had not heard from him, but gave me the name of a young lady in Anchorage he thought Tim might be visiting. This lifted my fears a bit. I called her, hoping desperately that he was there. She said he had stopped on his way to visit us, but was not there now. My heart was filled with despair. She said if he did show up, she would let me know. I had to leave it at that, wait until tomorrow, and continue to hope he would call.

Another day went by and we still had not heard from Tim. I called Tom again, for the third time, hoping he could give me some good news. He could not. I decided that it was time to do something about the situation. I told Tom that I was going to call to report Tim missing. The contemplating about reporting him missing now changed to the need to do something. If ever I thought the river of life I had been on up to now had been a bumpy ride, it was nothing compared to the rapids I was seeing up ahead. Because so much time had gone by and we hadn’t heard anything from him I didn’t care, it was time to take action!

Chapter 2

HEIRS TO THE OCEAN, EARTH, & STARS

Life is just too precious to waste. I must make it as worthwhile as I can in the short time I have to enjoy it.

Cynthia’s Journal November 6, 1977

In the end we all are a product of the DNA we are born into. We have to do with it what we can. Sometimes we have to learn to overcome it and make it into a positive. Sometimes we are dealt a hand that is filled with sorrow and pain. We are asked to rise above it and create a happy life in spite of the tragedies we have to live through.

I feel as if I have demons knocking at my back door. Just the mere fact that they are there keeps me uneasy. I won’t let them all the way in but they are always lurking there. What are they? What do they want? I am always confused and annoyed. How do you put a name on the demons so you can attack them and make them go away? Is it my past, my lost loved ones, my pain, my sorrow? I don’t know. Is this just my opposite of happiness and joy? If this world must always have opposites then must we suffer as strongly as we feel happiness and joy? Can that bring me some peace? Or is it scary to think if I find great happiness great sorrow will also have to come?

Cynthia’s Journal

The family I was born into began in Los Angeles, California where a mutual friend introduced my parents. My father grew up in Colorado Springs, Colorado and moved to California as an adult. My mother grew up in the Carpentaria and Ventura, California area.

I love these two people simply because they are my parents. When I look at their pictures I feel a deep eternal connection to both of them. They gave me life and I am grateful for that every day.

From their marriage in 1951 came four children: My older brother (Tom), a sister that died at three and a half years of age, before I was born (Kathleen), myself (Cynthia), and my younger brother (Tim).

We were the typical 1950’s and 60’s family. My mother stayed home and cared for her children. She was an outgoing person who was admired by everyone. She loved to plan parties and oversee them in our neighborhood. She volunteered at various organizations. She was an artist and made posters for our grade school library. She was a good seamstress and sewed clothing and craft projects. She loved working out in the yard, cultivating a garden and flowers of all kinds. Her parents were farmers, so she must have inherited their green thumbs. She was a great cook and made delicious meals for our family, as well.

My father was very proficient in the sheet metal industry and made a good living for our family. Having grown up in the depression era, he learned how to fix just about anything. He was creative with his engineer-type mind and had a real knack for fabricating parts to repair things. He did have a temper, though, that could be rather frightening. In spite of his rough façade, he also had a tender side and would help people with the expertise that he had accumulated over the years.

When I was about six months old we moved to Santa Barbara, California. We lived in a tract home there until I was seven years old. In 1965 we moved into a house designed and built by my parents in an exclusive area of Goleta (Rancho Embarcadero), California. Goleta is on the north end of Santa Barbara. I have always felt privileged to have been able to spend my growing up years in Goleta.

For thirteen years I lived on an acre lot dotted with ten walnut trees and just a few steps from the Pacific Ocean. This home was very precious to me and endeared me to the ocean. Water has always seemed life giving to me. I love sitting on the sand and watching as the waves come crashing to the shore, this always gives me a tranquil, calm, private place to contemplate life. I always long to be close to water, whether it is the ocean, a lake, or a river. Floating on a calm, cool lake, soaking up the sun’s hot, golden rays, is pure ecstasy for me. At one point in my life I was able to live on the edge of a river and it helped created many water analogies in my mind. If I can’t have the ocean, then I find some body of water to inspire me.

Three years after moving into our Goleta home, in September of 1968, our mother died at age forty-two from cancer. Tom was sixteen years old, I was ten years old, and Tim was just eight years old when our devastating loss occurred.

I remember when I was eight years old. I was alive. I was whole. A free soul among the souls.

One day I awoke to find I was dead – heaven, hell – something between – I was born to a new world. It had all changed.

Tim’s Journal March 4, 1984

Because of this tragedy each of us went our separate ways to learn how to heal. We never really talked about it with each other. Our father, trying desperately to deal with everything, had a heart attack two years later. After this happened, he retired from work and was a stay at home Dad. He never remarried and did much of his living doing things he felt my mother would like, such as gardening with plants she loved. Our mother’s death profoundly affected all of us, but seemed to affect Tim very severely.

I love you more than you could ever know. I will hate myself forever for letting you die before I could ever tell you this. I could never love anyone anywhere as much as I love you – But you will never know this from me – and so I am the wretch forever.

None will suffice in light of you – no woman can take my love from you. You left me lonely. My father is left lonely for you, my brother’s heart broken. My sister has a daughter you will never see – and she will never know you – much less that I ever did. You left me lonely.

And how can you expect me to ever be happy in light of this? What is there for me if I can never share it with you?

And where is god in heaven if he cannot even let me know you even once? Why must my heart be broken forever?

I spend my time trying to make people happy – and I do it mostly for you, for I understood this is what you wanted to see in people the most. – I do too. And I try to do what I think is right – sometimes I don’t, but I do try. It is something I need help with, I know. But, doesn’t it help a little?

It has been a year – I am a year lonelier for you. Of the fifteen years I have not known you now, none of them could be a good as the ones with you. I spend my time trying to make my father happy – he will be lonely forever without you. It will hurt me for as long as I live to see that. I have been a witness to it all – nothing in life will ever be as sad to me as this – in its light my life is nothing. He loves you.

And so last year I brought you a rose – this year all I wish to give you is a chance to see Lily. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The greatest treasure the world could show you. You would love her. Of all the things in the world I wish I could show you – she is the one.

Me – the little boy will never grow up without you. He will be lost forever. He loves you above all.

Happy Mothers Day

Tim’s Journal May 9 1983

This touched my heart, that he felt this way about my child. She was the first and only niece and grandchild at this time in our family. This made her very special to him.

Tim felt that when he lost his mother he lost his love. This gave him a very troubled outlook on life.

I break down, cry, find the wound left so long ago. I loved her so much – and worst of all – I never knew it when it mattered. It is all useless now. The time has gone, the chance spent. I will have to live with this forever, for she gave me so much and I gave back so little. Of all things, I only wish I knew then what I know now – Oh Lord, things could be so much better if only for that.

I am alone forever. I cry forever. I have friends – they can never know me. They can only know the facade – the mask, for I could never show them the truth. I do not wish that pain upon them. And yes, do they really care anyway? Why should they, it is only another tragedy in a world of endless tragedies always happening to someone else – always someone else.

Meet someone else.

To know love is only to have lost it.

Tim’s Journal May 26, 1983

My father had to take on the role of a single parent. Mother made him promise that he would take good care of us, and he took this role very seriously. The deaths of my mother and sister greatly impacted him and he feared that something might happen to one of us too. He began insisting that whenever we parted we say see you later instead of goodbye. To him, goodbye was too permanent. It meant that he might never see that person again. I grew up feeling my father’s despair and anguish and learned to live life through his eyes, living with the fear of losing a loved one. I adopted this practice of see you later with my children, passing this practice down through the generations. I live with the reality that when someone walks out the door they may not ever walk back in.

I live with the sadness that came from losing my mother. For many years I used to think that it was all a dream, and that I would wake up and our family would all be there, whole, including our mother. I never did wake from that dream - I am still in it. The pain never goes away, it just dulls some as the years tick by. I still have nights that I cry myself to sleep, missing my mother and longing for a hug from her. That 10-year-old little girl without a mother resides with me always.

Over the years I have learned to live with it, and search for meaning and understanding. I would never wish this life experience on anyone, however, I have found some positives in my life because of it. I learned to take care of myself and be strong. One of the most important things that living through this experience gave me is a great respect and compassion for good mothers. It taught me to strive to be a good mother to my children.

In 1978 my father decided to sell our Goleta home. New neighbors built their house so that it looked into our back yard, and this really upset Father. Also, Tom had moved out, Tim had graduated from high school, and I was in college. He was getting older and chose to move on. After the house sold, Father, Tim, and I, spent a summer living in Colorado with Tom, who lived there at the time. Father then rented a house back in Goleta. We lived there for three years. Father eventually found a place to build a new home for himself in Paso Robles, California. Tim and I had some difficulty leaving the Goleta home behind, the home where we spent thirteen of our growing up years. This made it hard to say goodbye. California holds a special place in my heart with memories of family, friends, beautiful ocean water, sand, landscapes, and many adventures to different destinations. I am very thankful that my parents provided such a fantastic place to grow up.

The exploring and playtime spent in California gave us an appreciation for any other wilderness areas we would encounter in our lives. Perhaps this is what later helped us feel at home in Alaska, with its extreme terrain and beauty. Alaska offered boundless skies to fly in