It’s so cliché, but really folks, life is pretty darned short.
I’ve obviously adapted to a new way of looking at life since the birth of my son. But that doesn’t just reach a new level and stay there. It creeps up and up when I’m not looking, when I’m not expecting it, when I’m not looking for it — little wake-up calls, if you will.
I spent the better part of a 12-hour day today interviewing the families of four people killed in a car crash this past weekend. Ordinary and extraordinary, all of them between 37 and 51 years old. Four people going about their lives, taken in an instant. I’ve heard all about them today.
“We stuck together through thick and thin,” said one son of his mother.
“She liked helping people out when they needed it,” a daughter said of her mother.”Their biggest joy was being grandparents.”
People would have a better life because of her daughter, a tearful mother told me.
No matter how many feature obits (as we call stories that honor a recently-deceased area resident) I do, they still hurt. They’re still the intimate tip-toeing into some of the most difficult hours a family has to endure. But I can’t tell you how special these stories mean to most of these families. Instead of an obituary, they have this opportunity for a beautiful last thing for their loved ones.
What would your feature obit say about you? Have you made the most out of THIS day?
In less whoa-deep thoughts, I’m loving my new camera, but I realize every day how very much I still have to learn. It’s a Nikon D-3000, so if anyone has any pointers on how to not be point-and-click dependent, I’d love it.
I’m getting there. I just love all of the memories I’m able to capture. I love viewing this beautiful life of mine through the viewfinder on my favorite new “toy.” The things I capture — not due to my talent as a photographer, but due to my luck and blessings as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend… — they’re just perfect.