As most of you know, I tragically lost my brother on November 30, 2018. I shared my story with Nothing is Wasted Ministries earlier this year. You can read that HERE. My mom is sharing her story today. Read to find out how she has found hope in grief.

It was a beautiful fall day in November. I woke up with a bounce in my step, it was Friday the 30th 2018, and I had the day off. I was feeling pretty pumped. We had spent several nights together the past week. Sarah had given birth to our youngest grandchild only a month before. We had a chili supper at her house Thursday night. Andrew was flying out today for Chicago. I planned to clean all day because Tony and I had several rooms painted as a Christmas gift to each other and I decided to clean the floors while I had the chance without any furniture in the rooms. Tony and I were planning to purchase a different dining room table that would accommodate our growing family. Andrew and I had been looking at different options that would fit my dinning room. He drew some options of different dimensions on the drive way with sidewalk chalk. We took my place mats and placed them on the ground to create a visual of the space we would actually have to accommodate our plates as well as serving pieces. I was determined to find a table we could all sit at for family meals. Andrew’s job as a pilot meant moving where the job took them. They had lived in Muncie and then moved to Ohio for the last 3 years. When he called us in December 2017, to let us know he was coming home for an interview, I could hardly contain my excitement. He cautioned me “Mom its just an interview”. The potential job was in Jeffersonville, not far from where we live. I went down on my knees in prayer as I was one determined mother to bring them home. He got the job and they moved home in February 2018. I was in a state of bliss having everyone so close for the first time since Andrew and Sarah were married.

As I was cleaning the floor in the dining room, I heard my phone vibrate and I saw Erica was calling. She had traveled to Chicago for the week to celebrate her nephew’s first birthday and to spend some time with her family. Andrew was going to meet her at the airpot. They had planned a fun weekend, just the two of them. I thought it was a bit odd that she called as we usually texted. When I answered, I could hear her trying to talk through tears and immediately knew something was wrong. I asked “Erica, what’s wrong?”. In my mind I was scrambling to find a reason why she would be so upset. Then I heard the following words “Teresa, Andrew’s plane never made it to the airport”. My mind raced to find what that exactly meant. So I asked, “What do you mean his plane never made it to the airport?”. Her response was, “I talked to Mike and he said its not good”. Not good, I thought, what does that mean. Mike was Andrew’s friend and coworker. I immediately surged into mom mode, I was fighting the tears but trying to maintain control, I told her I was heading to the airport and I would call her as soon as I knew something. I prayed with her and we hung up. Andrew flew out of Clark Regional Airport so I grabbed my coat to leave. Tony was still recovering from his second shoulder surgery and when I looked up he was standing there waiting for me to tell him what just happened. He could tell I was upset. I told him what she had said and was out the door in seconds. As I pulled out of the drive I saw an alert from Wave 3 on my phone that a plane had gone down in Memphis. The alert came at 11:30 am, it was now 1:30pm. I had missed the alert while I was cleaning. 

The reality of what we were facing started to hit me like a tidal wave. I was driving, screaming and asking God to please not let this be so. I was praying for his safety, praying for his survival, praying he was still alive. I called Sarah and she didn’t answer, at this point I was functioning on pure adrenaline. I called her again and again. I desperately needed her to answer. She finally picked up and I didn’t give her a chance to say anything before I started screaming that her brother’s plane went down and that I was on the way to the airport. I asked her if she could she come stay with her dad. She had been at the school where she teaches extending her maternity leave. I told her I was going to the airport to verify he flew out from there and to find out what time he had left. Then I was headed to the crash site. She said she would meet me at the crash site. I begged her not to do that as she had the baby with her. I asked her to go to the house and stay with her dad. 

By his time I had arrived in the parking lot of the hanger Andrew usually flew out of. I got out of the car and ran through the airport hanger yelling for someone to help me. I couldn’t find anyone, finally a young guy came towards me and asked how he could help me. I told him I was Andrew Davis’s mother and I wanted to verify that he indeed did fly out of the hanger today and what time he had left.

He took me outside and walked me to an office building. He said that the airport manager could help me. A man came walking out of the building, I ran toward him shouting, “Did Andrew Davis fly out of this hanger this morning?”. He looked at me and said,“Ma’am do you have someone who can be with you?” At that very moment a text alert came across my phone that said, “No survivors identified in the Memphis plane crash”. I fell on my knees and cried out to God to give me strength. In my mind, if I could  prove that he didn’t fly out of that hanger then it couldn’t be him they were talking about. I got up off my knees and ran to my car, this couldn’t be my reality. Tons of thoughts ran through my head… “They have to be wrong. Andrew is a survivor; he can get out of anything. His survival skills are incredible, an outdoorsman in every sense of the word. He’s an excellent pilot. There is no way he didn’t survive.” I decided right then and there that I HAD to go to the crash site. I felt like they gave up and didn’t try to find him. Maybe it was his plane that went down but even if it was he probably got thrown from the plane and he’s laying somewhere in a field trying to survive. I had to get to him before it was too late. I was driving while trying to maintain my composure. I pulled off the road in a parking lot. My emotions got the best of me for a moment; my mind was racing. I decided to call all the nearby Emergency Departments to see if anyone had been air lifted. The answers all came back… NO. No one had received any victims of a plane crash in Memphis. I called the news station and they gave me the address of the crash site. I put it in my GPS and only stopped long enough to pray and ask God to give me the strength and composure to maintain control so I could drive. 

Tony was at home, Sarah had arrived and was there with him. He kept calling me, begging me to come home. I told him no, I was headed to the crash site. He told me the police had called to inform us Andrew didn’t make it. I told Tony I loved him but I was going to the crash site. All I could think of was Andrew laying in the woods and no one was coming to help him. That’s my job as a mother to protect, never give up hope no matter what. I thought just because they said he didn’t make it, doesn’t mean he didn’t. I needed to see it with my own eyes to believe. 

The closer I got to the crash site, a heaviness began to fall over me, almost more than I could bear. I continued driving through the tears. As I turned on Crone Road (the road the crash site was on), I could feel the nudging of the Holy Spirit to turn back. As I got closer and closer I began to fear I might not be able to handle what I saw. My phone rang and it was the police. Tony had called them to let them know I was on my way there. The policeman said,“Ma’am don’t do this, don’t come here, you will regret it and we WON’T let you on the property.” I explained, more like screamed, to him that this was my only son and he didn’t understand.  I told him that Andrew was probably still alive and they weren’t looking hard enough to find him. I was his mother, I deserved to be able to know for myself if he was alive or not. He continued to say firmly ‘YOU HAVE TO STOP”. “No one is allowed on the scene but the police,” he said. He told me to turn around and GO home, in a nonnegotiable kind of way. So, I slowly turned my car around, knowing I was turning my back on ever seeing my son alive again. The drive home was surreal, I was numb in every part of my body. I barely could feel my hands on the steering wheel. I didn’t want to go home, I couldn’t bear looking his dad in the eye. It would mean it was real. How could this be? He was our only son. I prayed over and over and over “God please let it not be so”.

Somehow I made it home. I pulled in the drive and when I opened the door and got out, my legs didn’t support me. I fell to the ground. I remember trying to get up but all I could do was crawl. The next thing I knew, Sarah had scooped me off the ground and was holding me. Her friend Sabrina was there and they both helped me in the house. The hours that followed are somewhat of a blur.  

The house began to fill with people. I could hear voices inside and outside the house, all their voices seemed to merge together. It sounded like a rumbling in the background. Food was showing up everywhere. People were showing up everywhere. It was as if I was there, but yet I wasn’t. It felt like I was watching from a distance.

As the day went on people continued to flood our home with their presence, love, and support. For this, we will be forever grateful. We, mainly Sarah, communicated with Erica as much as possible through calls and FaceTime. It was very difficult being separated from her. None of us had any information. The police said they couldn’t help us because it was now a federal investigation. They told us the NTSB would be at the crash site in the morning and they were providing security around the site until they arrived. That was all they could say. The news channels were reporting it, showing video footage of the crash, but they wouldn’t release any names of the people on board. By this time, it was getting dark out and it was starting to rain. My mind couldn’t bear the thought of our son laying in a field and being rained on. Why weren’t they communicating with us? I couldn’t understand how hours upon hours went by and no one called to update us on anything.

I made numerous calls to any one I could think of to try and get information. Finally, one person I spoke to told me to call the Coroner’s office. The sound of those words made me physically ill. I thought I was going to be sick but I told myself, I had to call somebody. So I called the Coroner’s office. The lady on the other end of the phone was kind and told me how sorry she was. My thought was, “For what???” We didn’t have confirmation of anything yet. She gave me the coroner’s cellphone number and I called. By this time, it was late Friday night and he was leaving the crash site. He assured me he would return in the morning. He offered no information but a kind voice on the other end of the phone and a promise to call me tomorrow.

It was late and everyone had left and gone home. Sarah stayed as late as she could. She had a newborn baby, a four year old and a husband that needed her. Tony and I turned on the news. While we were desperate for information, it was difficult to see the same news footage over and over of the crash site. Nothing but smoldering debris for several miles strewn thru the woods. Nothing but dread and fear of what lied ahead. 

Morning finally came, along with the rain. Any hope of them finding Andrew alive was fading. Although in my heart I knew it was probably not a rational thought, yet hope remained. Saturday brought confirmation of the names of Andrew’s passengers, which we heard on the news. Still no word about Andrew, he was referred to as “the pilot” but no one said his name. There remained no confirmation that Andrew was on that flight except for the flight manifest, which the coroner brought to my attention Saturday night. As promised he called, and I answered. He apologized for not calling sooner as the terrain and weather was making it difficult to identify our son. I asked “Is it possible that he’s still alive and you just can’t find him?” There was a pause before he responded, “Mrs. Davis, no one survived this crash”. I couldn’t accept it. How did he know? How could he be so certain? He told me that he had to tell me some graphic information. He asked if I wanted to hear it or if there was someone else that I wanted him to speak with. I handed the phone to my daughter and walked out of the room. She had previously told me that she would take the call, if I couldn’t or didn’t want to. I could hear her side of the conversation from the kitchen. As much as I didn’t want to know, I wanted to know. I leaned in the doorway to hear what I could.  When they were finished, she handed me the phone and we discussed what the next steps were. Andrew’s name would be released as a victim of the crash Sunday. He had promised to keep in touch as things unfolded, and told me I could call him anytime. He said he had never seen anything like this and was something he would never forget. As much as I couldn’t wrap my mind around what was happening, I was thankful for the coroner. He was the only one who communicated with us and he was kind and gentle. 

Erica called and told us that she was coming home Saturday. She wanted to go to church, gather some things and go back to Chicago. It was good news to know she was coming home. We missed her so much, but we totally understood that she wanted to go back to her parents’ house. Sunday morning came and we went to church as a family, all of us, including Erica’s family. What better place to be in a time like this. Our church family means so much to us that even though it was difficult there was no other place we would rather be. After the service, we gathered around the cross and people prayed for us. Many voice’s all being heard by our Father for our well being and comfort.

As promised the coroner released Andrew’s name to the media. “The Pilot” finally had a name. Our son’s name. Is this real or a never ending nightmare? Pictures made their way into the media’s hands. Seeing pictures of him, Erica and the children was surreal. Is this MY family they’re talking about? Video footage of the crash site flooded the news, footage we had never seen, scores of fire trucks, ambulances, and neighbors recounting what they had seen and heard. Those pictures, words, sounds, and stories have been forever etched in my mind.

Sunday night we turned on the news to see if there had been any updates. Suddenly without warning, we heard Andrew’s voice. An expert from Emory Riddle was analyzing the communications between Andrew and the control tower. The expert would play a segment of the recording while describing in detail what each segment meant. The expert said, “Everything to this point has been normal.” We could hear Andrew’s voice, calm and confident. It reminded me of when he was getting his private pilot’s license at Clark County airport while he was in high school. His dad and I would sit on the bench right outside the building where we could hear Andrew over the speaker announcing his approaches and take offs. It brought us so much joy. But this time it was a mature voice we heard, not a young man’s voice who was just learning the ropes. This was a trained experienced voice. The expert then played the final segment between the control tower and Andrew. Andrew never responded. The expert said, “This is not normal.” He had suddenly disappeared from the radar. Silence, nothing but silence.

The days that followed were full of many things, sorrow and pain like I’ve never experienced. Deep guttural pain that reached to the deepest parts of my heart and soul. Confusion, denial, anger, including questions of God’s Sovereignty. It has been a journey I never imagined would be a part of my life. Sixteen months ago, I received a phone call that changed the course of my life forever and it feels, in many ways, that it just happened today. For many days, every time I heard the back door alarm chime my heart would stand still with the hope that I was going to see Andrew walk thru the door. That somehow he did survive and he came home. To this day, I still stand in silence when I hear the chime, though the hope of Andrew coming home is not a reality anymore, some part of me still feels hopeful. A part of my soul was ripped out of me with the death of our son. Life seemed so wonderful, full of hope and joy for all the times to come as a family. It all changed in a moment, in one breath, in the blink of an eye his life was gone from this earth forever. 

That life grew inside me. The one I rocked to sleep every night because he was my first and I didn’t want to lay him down. I didn’t want to miss one minute of his precious life, even if he was sleeping. The toddler that learned to walk and talk, all the cute wonderful things he did. That smile he had begun as a toddler and stayed with him his whole adult life. The kind of smile and laugh that comes from deep inside and lights up a room. As a mother, you are your son’s first love. He once bought me a sign that read, “Mother’s hold their children’s hand for awhile but their hearts forever” He was 13 when he gave me that plaque. It still hangs in my doorway. Children learn from us how to love, be generous, and kind. By example, they learn the qualities that are important to look for in a wife. Then they grow up, leave and choose a wife. This is God’s plan. Andrew chose well. 

In the last 16 months we’ve experienced more love from our church body, friends, family, coworkers and neighbors then we have in our entire life. Tony and I have served in some type of ministry our whole adult lives. We’ve been a part of loving others in many ways and used the gifts God has given us to help others. But we’ve never been on the receiving end, not like this. The hands and feet of Jesus has fed us, prayed with us and for us, cried with us, took care of our lawn/yard work, sent us on a respite retreat, sat with us, gave us gifts, brought us flowers, ate Krispy creme donuts and shared a beer with us, brought us chips and salsa from Chevys, knitted and listened to us and let us just be us without any expectations or time lines on our grief.

We are still grieving, but it looks different now. Grief is a journey. You must walk through it. It can’t be avoided, it can’t be ignored, shopped away, travelled away, ate or drank away, or even prayed away.

Memories at first were so very painful because it was a constant reminder that there won’t be anymore. Now those memories are precious and bring us joy. Andrew lived a great life and now he is with the Father, in complete peace. Surrounded by love like we have never experienced on earth, even on our best days. Remember when I said that life was full of joy because of all the family time we had to look forward to after Andrew and Erica moved home? That life is STILL filled with joy! We are STILL a family! We felt very broken for a long time, but we stuck together like glue. We spent as much time together as possible. We decided to “Above all else love each other deeply”. We decided to forgive in advance, to love each other with our whole hearts, to be there for and support each other as much as possible. We see our family as a gift that God made strong through trial. Our family bond is stronger than ever and I am so grateful! Remember when Erica’s plan was to come home, go to church, gather some things and go back to Chicago? She never left! She decided to stay here and raise the children. She built a house 8 minutes from us. Remember when I told you I was so excited when Andrew called and told us he had an interview here in Jeffersonville? Remember how he cautioned me to not get too excited, but I was thrilled and committed to pray for God to bring them here? Do you think this was all a mistake? God knew exactly what was going to happen to our family and he so lovingly put a plan in place to take care of us. What Satan meant for harm to destroy us, leave us bitter, angry and hopeless, God intervened and made good come from it. He was with us through every bitter moment, even when we couldn’t see it or feel his presence. 

Has it been easy? NO, far from it. Not only did we have our grief as adults, we had the grief of 3 small children to manage. Listening to a 3 year old try to reason where his daddy went and beg for him to come home. Listening to a 2 year old cry for her daddy night after night after night. Listening to a 4 year old trying to understand why everyone is crying and what happened to her Uncle Drew Drew. Then try and mange our own grief without completely falling apart. Nothing about it has been easy, but God never promised easy.

One thing we have all learned is, you don’t know what someone standing next to you has been through. Have grace, show love, give the benefit of the doubt. And one of the greatest lessons-we couldn’t have made it this far alone. God did not put us all here to walk alone, he gave us each other. I could spend hours telling you all the lessons I’ve learned on my grief journey, and I could give you a mountain of scripture that has kept me afloat, but that would take a lot of paper. So let me say that God is good! He’s always been good and He is still good! Andrew didn’t die alone in that plane because God said, “I will never leave you or forsake you” that’s a promise and God keeps his promises. Do I understand “why”? No I don’t, I’ve sought that answer from the bible, from many books and from people that have much greater wisdom than I. Do I understand Gods sovereignty? No I don’t. But! I have peace because, I remember God’s faithfulness to me. I remember that in my darkest hour, He was there. I remember even when my eyes couldn’t see him, He was there. When my whole world came crashing down, He was there. I remember that even when I thought there was no way, He made a way because He has ALWAYS been faithful to me. 

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not depend on your own understanding, seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take” Proverbs 3:5-6

I pray that as you read my story, that God gave you hope. Hope that you will survive. Hope that you will come out of the ashes with a new heart. Hope that the deep guttural pain will ease. Hope that God has not forsaken you because He keeps his promises. Hope that you will have joy and laugh again. Maybe you are early in your grief journey and the weight of it is so heavy all you can do is breathe. Thats okay. God sees you, and your are not alone. It may feel that way, but don’t trust the enemies lies. God is there and He is weeping with you. He feels your pain and He does love you more than you can begin to imagine. 

Maybe you read my story because you have never grieved the loss that you experienced. Maybe you’ve kept it tucked deep down inside you for a long time, even years. Grief will destroy you. It will eat away at you until your health fails. It will show up in every relationship, and deplete you beyond anything you can imagine. Make you bitter and hopeless. It doesn’t have to be that way, you have a choice.

Grief Share is an excellent resource to help you cope and resolve your grief, the website is griefshare.org . You can find a group near you. 

Teresa Davis

You can connect with my mom on Instagram @tdtldavis83 or on Facebook.