A Turning Point

Covid began my junior year of college during what should have been a normal spring break. One week at home turned into months of online classes. My senior year never looked the way I thought it would. Campus felt quiet, classes were virtual, and graduation in May 2021 was not a stage but a livestream. It felt like time was stolen, like the milestones that were supposed to define that part of my life just disappeared.

In the middle of that loss, I took a photography class. At first it was just another requirement, but it quickly became something else. My camera became my lifeline. Over six weeks, I documented life during the pandemic. The photos told a story I could not put into words. They showed empty spaces, masked faces, and the silence that followed every headline.

When my great-grandparents passed away, the pandemic became painfully real.

People could not gather, but they still showed up. Neighbors lined the street with flags. Cars moved slowly past our home in a quiet procession. A priest prayed behind his mask while someone held flowers at a distance. It was heartbreaking and beautiful all at once.

The photographs I took captured grief, but they also revealed strength and love. They reminded me that even in tragedy there is still connection. Although I cannot share many of those images, they live inside me. They remind me to stay present, to lead with compassion, and to honor resilience wherever I find it.

My great-grandparents are the backbone of my life. Through their loss I found a deeper connection to my family, to my roots, and to the values they taught me. Their memory guides me every day. Their ending became my beginning, and today I live for them.

In 2023, my reflections on this time were published in Chronicling a Crisis: SUNY Oneonta’s Pandemic Diaries (JSTOR / SUNY Press), preserving my story as part of the collective history of the pandemic.