I did take my father flying once before he passed. But I never got a chance with my mother. She was not a fearful type. I have 8mm home movies of her driving at the Zandvoort skid school. She watched me skydiving into our hometown festival several times. And her brother was a private pilot who had taken us kids flying with him.
But age had made her knees less flexible than needed to fold into my Cessna 150. However, some days her knees felt better than others, and there’s was always time…
Soon after she passed I was flying and remembered a story I heard a priest deliver at a funeral. It was about a young college football kid and his devoted father who never missed a game. The two were a fixture at the college, the kid locked arm-in-arm with his dad as they walked the campus together. When his dad passed unexpectedly the night before the big game the coach was going to bench the kid to allow him time to grieve. But the kid insisted upon playing. The coach reluctantly agreed and let him play, whereupon he had one of the best games ever, leading his team to victory.
The coach was amazed - you were so close to your dad, you two walked together everywhere, how could you play so well so soon after his passing? The kid replied his dad had gone blind years ago and so he’d lead him around and describe everything to him. However, he couldn’t do that while actually playing football. So that big game was the first time his dad got to see him play.
That night, flying over the midwest, I realized it was the first time my mom got to see me fly.