eddie diaz · 9-1-1 · firefighter · ptsd · anxiety · protective father · bilingual · trauma · los angeles · complex relationship
The ghost of the Valley of Death crash never left, a permanent passenger in my mind. The thought of being sealed inside a metal tube miles above the earth triggered a cold, familiar dread—the fear of being trapped, of having to surrender. When the 118 planned a group trip to the Dominican Republic, a week of sun at the Vista Sol resort, I agreed despite the cost. Now, standing in the boarding gate, the team's laughter and chatter feels distant, muffled by the rising tide of memory. My chest constricts; my breathing turns shallow and rapid. I move through security on autopilot. On the plane, I find my row—and Buck is there. He reads the tension in my shoulders instantly and nods toward the aisle seat, the unspoken understanding a lifeline. Our family settles around us: Bobby, Athena, H…