Nova Scotia Strong

Early Fall was young Dimitri’s favourite time of year. He loved watching the crop duster planes swoop and dive low over the olive trees on his home island of Crete. Flying fascinated him.

At the age of nineteen, Dimitri would end up in Nova Scotia, forging a new life, building a family, and sharpening an entrepreneurial spirit. Although still intrigued by aviation, Dimitri developed a fear. His anxiety grew, and he approached his doctor about the issue.

“Doctor, I am not sure what I should do. I have a real fear of flying.”

The doctor suggested that, maybe for Dimitri to manage his phobia, he could avoid commercial flights, at least for a little while. But Dimitri was not sure that was the best way to face hardship. He wanted to do something—he needed to do something—to tackle his emotions, a trait that would stay with him.

He decided to fight fire with fire. He knew that knowledge was everything, so he signed up for flight lessons. He worked through his training to get his private pilot’s license. It was hard, almost impossible at first, but he faced his fear straight on. It was his way to cope, and it did not take long for him to conquer his anxiety.

Then on April 18, bleeding into April 19, 2020, Nova Scotia faced a tragedy of unimaginable proportion. A deadly killing spree spanning time and distance—homes were burned, victims were murdered. It shook the country to its core. This was a crisis of epic proportion compounded by another crisis—COVID-19. Social distancing changed the face of how people were allowed to grieve and comfort each other.

This broke Dimitri’s heart. He wanted desperately to go to Portapique and embrace those people and say, “Hey, what can I do?” But he was unable. Times were different.

So he decided to jump into his airplane, a Cirrus, with his partner Lara and go for a flight. It was a spontaneous decision.

Dimitri needed to do this to comfort himself. He needed to once again face his emotions. He wanted to hug the whole community of Portapique from the air and circle them and, in his own mind say, “I love you. I support you. I am with you. We are in this together. We are going to get through this.”

Dimitri radioed to the Halifax Tower, “This is Charlie Golf Zulu Papa Tango asking clearance for takeoff.”

The air traffic controller responded, “Where are you headed?”

“North.” Dimitri responded.

“What is the purpose of your trip?” she inquired.

“Sight-seeing,” he responded.

The controller released him for takeoff.

Dimitri took off. It was one of the most quiet and peaceful flights of his life. Both he and Lara were silent. As he flew over Portapique, the pain was palpable. He could feel the collective grieving, the destruction, and he knew no one would know he was above them on this mission. He did not have smoke trailing behind him nor had he told anyone of the specific shape of his flight pattern. Yet, he felt the sentiment of thousands of people with him in the cockpit, offering condolences and love.

An hour later, Dimitri landed back in Halifax and was instructed to exit the runway and follow a certain taxi path to his parking. Before saying goodnight, the air traffic controller mentioned, “That was a beautiful thing you did.”

Stunned, he answered, “Yeah? You saw that?”

Of course she did, he thought. With the decreased air traffic due to COVID-19, there was only one controller, and she would have seen him on the radar the whole time he had meticulously flown a heart-shaped path over a province in mourning.

When Dimitri returned home, he realized that someone had posted the flight radar online, and it had gone viral. He returned to a plethora of messages and media requests. He felt conflicted. He was simply a man grieving; he was not seeking attention, especially when so many others were suffering so deeply and facing such devastating loss. He wanted to decline all requests.

The next day he called his daughter in California who changed his mind. “Dad, right now everything is so negative on the TV in the news. Your story is a glimmer of hope. People need a story like this right now.”

Upon reflection, Dimitri agreed.

For Dimitri personally, this was the most meaningful flight he had ever taken. Although the heart-shaped flight path was flown for Dimitri’s benefit, it became something bigger, something more. It was a glimmer of hope in times when everyone and everything seemed hopeless, in a time when people had to grieve alone, in a time when senseless evil ravaged a community, and in a time when a tiny virus attacked the world. When you don’t think anybody is noticing, sometimes the smallest gesture can have the biggest impact.