lessons in life and death.

We always talk about the things we get to experience, with a camera as our excuse. I’ve been in planes thousands of feet above the air, weaved through old building catacombs underneath the city streets, stood in the jail cell room of the football stadium; all to visually document. We place ourselves in these situations to see in a different way, to see from the view that the story needs telling. Yesterday all I did was stand in a Baptist church, but I feel that it was by far one of the biggest experiences of my short time in this. What I saw wasn’t something tangible, it wasn’t really something I could see at all, aside from the tears and tissues. It was something I felt, an incredible cloud of sadness for a girl I’d never known.

For those of you who don’t know, Connie Blount was a beautiful 18 year old girl. She rode for the equestrian team and was clearly loved by every person she encountered. She was hit by a pick up truck and passed away this weekend, leaving being hundreds of grieving friends and family. Her memorial service was last night at a Baptist center on campus.

I never met Connie Blount. I never saw her radiant smile except for its frequent appearances in her slideshow, as her friends and family wept. I never felt the joy that everyone says radiated from her being. But as I stood against the wall trying to blend in with the brick that poked into my sweater, somehow she changed me.

I only hope I leave behind the legacy that she did; one of smiles, joy, and compassion. One that can forever change strangers who just so happened to encounter me, whether in life, or in death.