I could see his body hurtling to the ground. My parachute, stretched tight against the cloudless sky, occasionally blocked my view of his fall. There was no sound except the wind ripping past my face. Was it the same for him?

This moment, this maybe 45 seconds, seemed to last for many hours. The human hope that he may survive, may somehow make a safe landing, lived in me for those seconds that felt like hours. And I knew they would remain until we eventually would find his body.