3Two hours earlier, my father had taken off alone in a single-engine propeller plane. Since then, no one searching for him had spotted the Cessna 172 in the air or on the ground.
He wasn’t supposed to be flying by himself. When my father was first diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I insisted he surrender his pilot’s license. But I lost the argument over the Cessna and he retained half-ownership. Bob Williams, Dad’s co-owner, routinely invited my father to fly with him on weekends when the weather was good.
This morning, my father had seemed especially eager to get airborne. He’d brushed off the nurse’s reminder I’d be phoning him at three. Fearful of upsetting him again, she called Bob and relayed my father’s request that Bob come for him earlier. Bob was happy to comply. By 12:30, he and my f
