Benjamin Letterhos

Many people knew Ben Letterhos for his career as a respected and beloved pilot, but he spent a lifetime spreading joy, hope and kindness – from his childhood home on the Western Slope to his home base of Denver and the skies above Colorado and beyond.

He died suddenly of natural causes at age 62 on March 23 at his home.

The list of those saddened and diminished by his loss is endless, but starts with the relatives who survive him: His wife, Kathleen Mayer, and her son Colin Caughron, both of Denver; brothers Dave of Denver, Andy of Albuquerque and Mike of Eckert, Colorado; and nephews James of Albuquerque and Zach of Winston-Salem, North Carolina.  He was preceded in death by his parents, Lola and Gene, and his sister, Becky, and nephew Travis.

A memorial mass will be held at 10 a.m. on Friday, April 1, at Good Shepherd Catholic Church, 2626 East 7th Avenue Parkway in Denver,. For those who wish to honor and remember Ben with contributions, please consider the Denver Dumb Friends League, Catholic Relief Services or Flight for Life Colorado through St. Anthony Health Foundation.

Ben will be remembered for his warmth, his laughter that filled a room, his gentle demeanor and generous soul. In every sense, he was a person people looked up to – for his personal attributes, but also because he spent a good portion of his life above the clouds.

From his days in high school, Ben loved flying, and turned that fascination into a career that began in 1978, when he captained a Cessna 206 air ambulance across Arizona and New Mexico. For six years in the 1980s he directed flight operations and served as chief pilot for Ponderosa Aviation, flying Shrike Commander aircraft out of Taylor, Arizona. He often recalled this early phase of his career, in which he flew fire reconnaissance and suppression on the White Mountain Apache Reservation and air ambulance transports, as one of the most rewarding.

Ben flew hundreds of flights on the Navajo, Hopi and Apache reservations, transporting patients from the reservation medical facilities to hospitals in Tucson and Phoenix.  Many times, he was alone in the airplane with the patient, turning around to encourage a mother in labor to pant, since they were only 10 minutes from the runway in Phoenix, or adjusting an IV rate for a patient on the way to surgery.

In 1987, he found what would become his enduring aviation home with Colorado’s Mayo Aviation, Inc., where he flew a variety of aircraft and served in several capacities. He began flying a Hawker 800 XP jet in 2014 and continued right up to the day before his death.

Along the way, he handled many fixed-wing flights for Flight for Life, the St. Anthony Hospital-based rescue and transport service. One of those flights ultimately changed his life.

In the course of picking up a patient, Ben met a flight nurse named Kathy Mayer. Soon after, he asked her to dinner. From there, they took off on a relationship born of their shared experience serving sick and injured patients. Kathy noticed that, on the most turbulent fixed-wing flights, she felt an unwavering sense of calm and confidence with Ben at the controls.

They married in 1995 at a small church in the Colorado mountains.

Marriage only enlarged Ben’s expansive and treasured sense of family. When there was something to be celebrated or mourned, or just something to be done, Ben was there with his humor and compassion – and a practical skill set that was unmatched. He could heal hearts and handle home repairs with equal dexterity.

There seemed to be almost nothing that Ben couldn’t fix or, at least, make better. One enduring example: the fire-damaged Denver house that he and Kathy bought in 1994 and, in a project that spanned decades, turned into a beautiful and welcoming space. Ben’s touch and spirit was, and remains, everywhere.

After his brother Dave suffered a debilitating stroke, Ben arranged for assisted living within minutes of the house and faithfully attended to his wellbeing – including regular trips to McDonald’s for his brother’s favored meal of a hamburger, plain. Ben remained both steadfast watchdog and guardian angel, a role his physical absence is not likely to diminish.

While mourned and remembered by the people who knew him, Ben also connected deeply with another population – the dogs lucky enough to share quarters with him, especially the older rescues he and Kathy took in and made part of the family. With unerring instincts, those dogs quickly sniffed out Ben’s kindness and became his best buds.

He showered them with love and attention, long walks and belly scratches – and frequently invited them along on his morning coffee run, where they kicked off their day with a treat at the drive-thru window. Although current good boy Archie already misses his close companion, it’s not hard to imagine some tail-wagging reunions underway with previous four-legged generations.

Ben showered particular attention on the babies and little ones – nephews, nieces and no relation at all – who came into his life, and invariably into his arms, where he loved to coo and coddle them and explain the finer points of thrust reversers and rates of climb. The attention to detail that made him such a safe and skilled pilot served him equally well when it came to remembering their birthdays and holiday wishes, and creating a look of delight on their faces when he arrived with a special gift – just because.

The larger gifts that Ben bestowed on everyone he knew also, in their own way, reflected his abilities in the cockpit. Well-accustomed to navigating turbulence in the skies, he helped us learn to master it in our everyday lives. And whenever choppy air might buffet us, Ben would be there with comfort and reassurance, and the promise of smoother air ahead.