Sunday wasn't a good day. All is explained here.

Needless to say...I can't pray. The words just stick. As a matter of fact, during the whole incident, I wasn't even able to say, "Dear God..GET ME OUTTA HERE!" All I got out was, "Dear Go..."

Honestly, the old adage about aviation being "hours and hours of sheer boredom interrupted by moments of sheer terror" was played out in a matter of 1 and half minutes over Red Bluff, California last Sunday night.

But now I find it hard to pray. Intellectually I know it was God + all my training and I am grateful that I get to see my wife and kids, but trying to pray is...hard.

I'm not sure what "syndrome" this may be or if I'm still somewhat shocky but it concerns me.

The crew on the plane love me to death now and have expressed, repeatedly, that I'm their new best friend because I got them home alive. I understand that but emotionally I can't respond.

Numb.

Nevermind...

Eric