I was 10 years old when I had just returned from a month long
trip to Europe. My father was a chief mechanic with Air Canada, and as a family
of four,we were returning to our home town of Toronto. My father had to go back
to work to Toronto after the beginning of July 02, 1970 (then known as Malton
airport ) and then "the day" occured. I remember I was in church with my sibling
and with my mother, and my father had to work the early morning shift. And then
it happened. Beyond my fatigue from the time change of Europe, and my haze of
the shock of this accident... it hit me when my father came home and told us as
he and his ground crew members were standing and watching it all happen from the
tarmac.
it was surreal, much as it is surreal as I recount it all now.
Far too painful and tearful to describe. It is much to bear and to graphical to
describe as someone whose father has gone through death and trauma of the Second
World War, as a flyer in the Air Force of Britain. As I read of this horrible
accident, it is vidid, because I remember the emotions painfully and so
realistically playing visions in front of me. I wish for peace and closure for
all the dear victims and their beloved families. And for all the people that
were involved in the after math of all of this. Peace and rest fo all.
--Lili in Ottawa
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