I am very sorry to hear that

Although I only knew him from this forum, he seemed like a very fine fellow to me and I will miss him.
Being a pilot myself I have always like this poem:

Flying West...


I hope there's a place, way up in the sky,
Where pilots can go, when they have to die.
A place where a guy could buy a cold beer
For a friend and a comrade whose memory is dear.
A place where no doctor or lawyer could tread,
Nor a management -type would e'er be caught dead!
Just a quaint little place, kind of dark, full of smoke,
Where they like to sing loud, and love a good joke!
The kind of a place where a lady could go,
And feel safe and secure by the men she would know.
There MUST be a place where old pilots go, when
Their wings become weary, when their airspeed gets low;
Where the whiskey is old, and the women are young,
And songs about flying and dying are sung.
Where you'd see all the fellows who'd "flown west" before,
And they'd call out your name, as you came thru the door,
Who would buy you a drink, if the thirst should be bad,
And relate to the others, "He was quite a good lad!"
And then thru the mist you'd spot an old guy
You had not seen for years, though he'd taught YOU to fly,
He'd nod his old head, and grin ear to ear,
And say, "Welcome, my son, I'm pleased you are here!
For this is the place where true flyers come,
When the battles are over, and the wars have been won;
We've come here at last, to be safe and afar,
From the government clerk, and the management czar,
Politicians and lawyers, the Feds and the noise,
Where all Hours are Happy, and these good ol' boys,
Can relax with a 'cool one', and a well deserved rest.."
"This is Heaven, my son: You've passed your last check!"

Danny