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To both of you, as always:

Strapped in. From birth, to the present. Strapped into training, routine, being told we were special. We, the five of us, chosen. Chosen due to genealogy, aptitude, intelligence. We were groomed for singular purpose. Before we were conceived, the project was. The earth’s fuel beneath us, both hundreds of thousands of gallons of liquid, but also the will and hope of all mankind. We sat resting on it all. All of it in our hands. 

The first time I truly suppressed my doubt I remember sweat. Perspiration jumped from my face against the shaking of the cabin. Countless instruments to monitor and navigate, dozens of things demanding my undivided attention. Four other souls in immediate need of my focus, and that’s when I heard it- doubt.

They start as clouds- the heavens. The engines fired and gravity became less of a burden than I could have imagined. The force pushed us all back into our seats. The landscape beneath us turned to land mass and the earth began to curve. Four other souls expertly attended to their monumentous responsibilities; it was the third most powerful moment of my life and it happened without the first two there to take part. You weren’t there. But you were. 

The terrific force and searing brightness brought to the forefront of my mind that just millimeters of scientific ingenuity protected us all from extinction: the five of our lives, the mission, and quite possibly the human race. Just as the force against our bodies became unbearable, everything smoothed out. All went dark, save for the illuminated instrument panels. All was calm. The weightlessness is palpable. You could sense the smiles and eagerness of my fellow crew- nothing but the mission and the great unknown lie ahead. Yet everything lay behind. 

This is letter 5110 to you. That’s fourteen years my time, but, by my calculations, ninety-seven of yours. You are gone. And Amelia, our dear daughter, you have surpassed my age. Perhaps I should begin solely addressing you, dear daughter, but I am incapable of grasping the concept of your mother’s passing. The math is correct, but out here, tumbling through the outer reaches of the known universe, in a tin can, my heart won’t allow what my logic tells it.

Amelia, your mother and I, from the moment we met, we knew I was going on this mission. We didn’t plan to fall in love, let alone bear children. But it seems from the very beginning you had our combined determination. It brings a smile to my face knowing that of you. We took solace in the fact that a piece of me would remain on earth with your mother. I know now it was the biggest piece- my heart. We named you after the reason we were both first interested in aviation. Just as your namesake, I am chasing a dream. A dream of hope in a greater purpose. Unfortunately it is a dream of great sacrifice. All that will return of me is data. Intelligence meant to perpetuate the human race.

We killed our planet. At first blindly, unknowingly. Then all-too-knowingly- we killed it.

We all wait until it’s too late to ask for help. We ruined our home just as we ruin ourselves. Quick fixes, living for today with little thought of tomorrow. This is what we were taught to avoid in our training. We were instructed to only think of the future. To only think of what would be the best for all, with little to no thought to ourselves. It has taken years to come to terms with that brainwashing. The five of us, up here, alone, we debate. Debate the choices of our parents, our mentors. We debate our own choices. 

I am haunted by a life unlived on earth with you both. The struggle, the pain, the bliss, the laughter. It is prevalent no matter where you are and I wish I could have experienced it all with you. 

Both of you.

So few of us get to live the lives we want. More often than not we must sacrifice our own needs and desires in the name of others.

I’m so tired. They tried to warn us, prepare us for every eventuality they could fathom, but an endeavor of this magnitude has never been undertaken. The thing they couldn’t have known without enduring is the pure exhaustion from thought. 

Amelia, I had to leave the day you were born. I held you against my chest, your head on my shoulder. You ceased crying and closed your eyes. Your small breath warmed my skin. 

Now I hurtle through space. Unbound by time. Barely perceptive of its creeping and sprinting. I tumble into oblivion in the name of hope, but with your breath still resting on my shoulder. 

Right where you left it. 

-Dad