I had a hard time concentrating on Saturday. I tried to wash dishes, I attempted to edit some stories and then I started doing loads of laundry. I wanted to remain calm, be positive.

As the terrifying news continued to trickle in, I gave in to my grief. I remembered our pain as a community in 1999 when we lost two Blue Angel pilots. This time it was more difficult for me, this time it was more personal.

I had the incredible privilege of flying with LCDR Kevin Davis last summer on a media ride, and I followed his successes as he was chosen solo pilot for Blue Angel #6.

Kevin was one of those people that makes a huge impression in only a matter of minutes, yet he came across as a truly humble guy. Though I only spent about one and one half hours with him, I immediately sensed that he was truly one in a million.

I was expecting a "hot stick," but I was amazed to find that this young man was also patient and kind. He coached me through my flight and encouraged me before each stunt. To be in a Blue Angels jet was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream, and I knew I only had one chance to experience it all. Kevin took me on loops and dives through clear blue skies, we broke the sound barrier and pulled max Gs as we screamed above turquoise Gulf waters.

I grew up a Navy brat, and I spent eight years as a Navy wife. I met many wonderful people all those years, but I found Kevin to be one notch above even the excellence I expected. Blue Angel pilots are truly one in a million and I expected an excellent pilot; I met an excellent man.

The mommy in me couldn't help but think how proud his family must be. As we headed back to shore, I peppered him with questions about his education, his training. His Blue Angel #7 crew chief, Marine Sgt. Deo Harrypersaud, had told me all about Kevin's excellence at Embry Riddle Aeronautical University and throughout his Naval Aviation training, but Kevin just talked about how much he had always loved to fly.

At our flight's end, as we taxied toward the Blue Angel squadron hangar, I told Kevin that I had always loved the Blues. His quiet New England demeanor did not betray how uncomfortable he must have been with my Southern gushing and post-flight adoration. "I will pray for you all every time I hear you scream over my house," I said. "I will never forget you."

I am praying for the Blues - our Blues - my Blues. And I will never forget Kevin.