The day is here and so far I'm pretty at peace with it. I think a bunch of things came together last year that were a little more spread out this year, so it was like taking baby bites instead of one big gulp. Last November 7th was on a Wednesday. Sue and I were photographing the Bloomfield Nursery School that day. We had just finished with the morning class and went out to get something to eat before the we had to return for the afternoon class. It was snowing the first flakes of the year. On our way back to Canandaigua we got a call that Sandi hadn't shown up for work. That's when the day started to unravel into a surreal nightmare.
This year, the first snow was quite a few weeks ago. The thought crossed my mind that the first snow will never be the same again. I still got excited over it, but I don't think it will ever go by that I don't think of that day.
I photographed Bloomfield Nursery School again this past Wednesday. That was a bit difficult for me. Even though it was only November 5th, it was a tangible place and day of the week to sink my memory into. The two main differences this time were that Sue wasn't with me and it was 70 degrees out.
Now it's November 7th. Looking at the date typed out in front of me makes my stomach turn. If I go about my business everything is fine, but if I let my mind retrace my steps of that day, I can bring myself right back there until I shake it off.
The last year has been a roller coaster ride. It started with unimaginable grief and sadness. That turned into numbness for the pain but was also filled with an overwhelming amount of love for my wife and kids and the rest of my family. Life's daily problems were placed into such a state of insignificance it was hardly worth giving them any time. The overwhelming clarity of what really mattered was as bright as the sun. Over the course of the year, daily problems were given a little more attention each day until eventually the clarity was clouded over. My goal is to take November 7th and not only reflect on the gift that Sandi was in my life, but to take a step back and renew my sense of what's important.
This year, the first snow was quite a few weeks ago. The thought crossed my mind that the first snow will never be the same again. I still got excited over it, but I don't think it will ever go by that I don't think of that day.
I photographed Bloomfield Nursery School again this past Wednesday. That was a bit difficult for me. Even though it was only November 5th, it was a tangible place and day of the week to sink my memory into. The two main differences this time were that Sue wasn't with me and it was 70 degrees out.
Now it's November 7th. Looking at the date typed out in front of me makes my stomach turn. If I go about my business everything is fine, but if I let my mind retrace my steps of that day, I can bring myself right back there until I shake it off.
The last year has been a roller coaster ride. It started with unimaginable grief and sadness. That turned into numbness for the pain but was also filled with an overwhelming amount of love for my wife and kids and the rest of my family. Life's daily problems were placed into such a state of insignificance it was hardly worth giving them any time. The overwhelming clarity of what really mattered was as bright as the sun. Over the course of the year, daily problems were given a little more attention each day until eventually the clarity was clouded over. My goal is to take November 7th and not only reflect on the gift that Sandi was in my life, but to take a step back and renew my sense of what's important.
1 comment:
Hi Sue, Steve, Sarah and Cade,
I too was wondering about what today might be like...I can still remember what I was doing that morning I heard the news, as vividly as if it was yesterday. I recently had my second baby, a little boy we named GJ, and think about how much Sandi loved Lea and how I wished I could have called to share the news with her when he was born. I know the pain I bear is very different than yours, but know that I was thinking of you today, and you are not alone.
Julie Donofrio
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