I had the perfect life. I had a blissfully happy marriage, two wonderful sons, a loving extended family, and a successful veterinary practice where my vocation was my avocation. On the morning of January 10, 2010, when we woke up, my husband, Nick, rolled over in bed, gave me a kiss, and said "life is good".
I had come to golf late in my forties when my eldest son, Billy, played on his high school varsity golf team. I was hooked immediately. I devoured everything golf related from sports psychology to Dave Pelz's latest statistics on chipping.
I played most of the time with my family, and it was great time together.
On the afternoon of January 10, 2010, my life took a turn never anticipated. My husband had a small veterinary practice on the nearby island of Lana'i. He was a private pilot and would fly from our home in Honolulu to Lana'i most Sundays, often taking our youngest son , Timmy, with him.
At about 2 pm, I simultaneously got a phone call and a policeman at my door. My eldest son, Billy grabbed the phone as my heart sank and I opened the door for the officer. He asked me if my husband was Dr. Nicholas Palumbo, and then if he was flying, and what his plane's tail number was. I immediately knew he had crashed with our youngest son Timmy. I couldn't breathe, as Billy handed me the phone, saying gravely "It's the tower, they lost contact with Dad."
That was the day my world fell apart. As Billy said, we lost half of our family. Their bodies were brought off of the mountain by helicopter just a few miles from our home the next day. Nick had gotten into rapidly changing weather, lost visibility, and hit the mountain. He and my beloved son, Timmy died on impact, then the plane caught fire and burned their bodies beyond recognition.
I was in shock, and Billy and I stumbled through the next few weeks like zombies getting things done, barely able to comprehend our loss.
Among those who loved Nick and Timmy was my brother-in-law, Bill, a huge golf enthusiast . Retired, Uncle Bill plays 6 days a week. My family was sitting around talking about nothing, and Bill said bring your putter and a wedge, lets go hit some balls. We went to my favorite muni, and putted and chipped for a couple of hours. We spoke mostly of golf, he helped me with my short game. And we occasionally spoke of how much we loved Nick and Timmy, telling funny stories about them.
That summer, I went to spend a few weeks with Bill in Connecticut. He would pick me up every morning at 5 am. I was lucky to play with him and his buddies. We were dewsweepers, as his buddy Ray owned the course.
That was the beginning of my return to life. Unable to work for months, I would play the back nine at my muni. It was in a stunning setting, even considering the everyday beautiful of my home in Hawaii. I usually played by myself in the early morning dew. I cried, railed against the forces that took my precious boys from me; it was impossible to not realize in all of my pain that I was surrounded by breathtaking beauty. I hit the ball, trying to stay in the moment. I hit the ball fat, I hit it thin, the ball flew effortlessly long, and I stubbed it 20 yards to the left. It didnt matter, I just hit the damn ball.
The clouds poured over the Koolau mountain range like cotton candy as the sky turned pink. I left the course refreshed and better equipped to face the day. For a bit of time I had control and focus.... Even though it was on a little white ball.
I continued to play 5-6 times weekly by myself in the early morning mist. Friends joined me later. They saved me from myself. They made me laugh, allowed me to cry, and kept my spirits up. We created a top ten list of stupid things people said to me after the accident. Some have joined our golf lexicon, for instance , some bonehead told me and Billy" it could have been worse." We say that often.
Life goes on. I am deeply impacted by the devastating loss of Nick and Timmy. I am able to function and pretend to be normal. But I'll never "get over it".
Thank goodness for golf , it continues to soothe my soul, I have discussions with my boys on the course, especially at dawn and twilight. My golf friends make living easier, are always there for me. And every once in a while, my beautiful young son Timmy helps me to sink a long put.
Once again,
"Life is Good".
By: Sue Palumbo (aka Auntie Sue)
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