Who packed my parachute?

 Captain Charles Plumb, a Vietnam-era Navy pilot was shot down and spent 2,103 days as a prisoner of war.

Years later, he was sitting in a restaurant when a man approached him and said, “You’re Plumb. You flew jet fighters in Vietnam. You were shot down.”

Stunned, Plumb asked, “How do you know that?”

The man replied, “I packed your parachute.”

That night, Plumb couldn’t sleep. He later reflected, “How many times did I pass that man and never even say good morning because I was a fighter pilot, and he was just a sailor?”

Fighter pilots receive the recognition. The glory. The medals.

But it’s the quiet, unseen individuals the ones packing the parachutes who make survival possible.

And ever since, his message has been simple and profound:

Know who packed your parachute and say thank you.

As I read this story and felt its impact, I found myself asking that same question:

Who packed my parachute? And did I ever truly say thank you?

And the answer became clear.

My parents packed my parachute.

From the time I was a child, they gave me everything I have. An education, values, strength, and direction. They nurtured me, guided me, sacrificed for me. They sent me to yeshiva, stood by me at every stage, and shaped me into the person I am today.

And I had to ask myself honestly: Did I ever properly say thank you. 

As we stand here and say Yizkor, and I'm saying Yizkor for my father A"h this question becomes even more powerful.

Because Yizkor is not only about remembering, it’s a call to action. It’s about recognizing what was given to us, and asking: what will we now do with it?

But how do we say thank you to someone who is no longer physically here with us?

The Rebbe teaches that we thank them by doing a mitzvah in their memory. By giving tzedakah, by performing acts of goodness and kindness, by living a meaningful life and doing it in their memory.