The only story I really had the chance to learn of David is that he died doing something he loved, flying a plane. He was 19 years old and had just learned to pilot a plane. I often wonder what would have became of David--if he would have went on to fly a commercial plane, jet-setting passengers across the seas, or if he would have enlisted and flown a helicopter in the war, transporting wounded soldiers to safety. He could have done great things. He would have done great things. I know this because he came from the most loving, devoted mother one could ask for, my nana. He, like her, was a kind soul. And now he no longer needs a plane to fly, for he has earned his wings in Heaven! Rest in peace dear Uncle David.