I don't know how I'm feeling right now. This is so far from normal, I'm questioning my sanity. I'm almost convinced I've gone insane.
Almost.
My wife, Janice, died during childbirth. She was an outstanding, gorgeous, and an intelligent woman. A women who's smile could light up a whole room and who's laugh was so loud it was a challenge to eat out in public. But I lost her as she gave birth to our daughter.
Sam.
I could have hard feelings for Sam for taking away what once mine in a way nothing else can be. For taking away what was so truly and utterly pure. But I didn't. I know Janice wouldn't have wanted any resentment. She wouldn't have wanted our only child to have a life ruined by hate. My daughter was very lively, always …show more content…
I figured he was a parents of one of Sam's friends, handing me a collection of photos of them together. Or maybe, I was too numb to process his cold hands and how he never mentioned my daughter once. For months I was lost. I drank and stayed in our now empty apartment alone, watching old cassette tapes - too numb now to even cry. It was only when my sister started showing up that she help my hand and talked to me, getting me out of my shell. She'd sit and listen to all the crazy things I would say and she helped me get out of my depression. Not completely, but enough for me to get out of the house again. That was when I decided to open the book and remember Sam for all the joy she gave me. I opened the first page and it was essentially a binder full of Polaroid photos of my daughter drawing up. All these photos were taken from a distance and I was in a few of them. I began to feel sick, but I kept flipping through the pages, hoping for an explanation. I would come up with an excuse for every single one of these photos and how the man obtained all these photos, deprecate to view the moment of my daughters life. The photos grew closer and closer to my daughters birthday. I could see the day I have her a tiny bike after she turned five and all the skinned knees that came with it. The book had so many more pages, I assumed they were all …show more content…
Her seventh birthday had a photo of me and her covered in paint on the back porch with a huge canvas on the floor and and an extremely messy painting. Her seven thing birthday...
Her seventh birthday. The reality of what was inside this book hit me and I slammed the book shut. I sat there at the kitchen table staring at the leather book sitting in front of me. This must be some crazy photoshop. I hoped someone had taken the time to pull a horrid prank on me. I said I hoped because they couldn't be another explanation. There just couldn't be. Gritting my teeth, I decided I had nothing to lose and with a big breathe, I kept on reading. I can't explain how I felt turning these pages one by one and seeing my daughters life still go on. Nothing could prepare you for something like this. Her life continued, showing her losing her baby teeth to her first day of her senior class in high school. My turning the pages became more frenzied and I began to notice something. As she got older the photographer grew closer. Not in every picture, but as a general trend, he was getting closer and closer. More daring I guess I should
Almost.
My wife, Janice, died during childbirth. She was an outstanding, gorgeous, and an intelligent woman. A women who's smile could light up a whole room and who's laugh was so loud it was a challenge to eat out in public. But I lost her as she gave birth to our daughter.
Sam.
I could have hard feelings for Sam for taking away what once mine in a way nothing else can be. For taking away what was so truly and utterly pure. But I didn't. I know Janice wouldn't have wanted any resentment. She wouldn't have wanted our only child to have a life ruined by hate. My daughter was very lively, always …show more content…
I figured he was a parents of one of Sam's friends, handing me a collection of photos of them together. Or maybe, I was too numb to process his cold hands and how he never mentioned my daughter once. For months I was lost. I drank and stayed in our now empty apartment alone, watching old cassette tapes - too numb now to even cry. It was only when my sister started showing up that she help my hand and talked to me, getting me out of my shell. She'd sit and listen to all the crazy things I would say and she helped me get out of my depression. Not completely, but enough for me to get out of the house again. That was when I decided to open the book and remember Sam for all the joy she gave me. I opened the first page and it was essentially a binder full of Polaroid photos of my daughter drawing up. All these photos were taken from a distance and I was in a few of them. I began to feel sick, but I kept flipping through the pages, hoping for an explanation. I would come up with an excuse for every single one of these photos and how the man obtained all these photos, deprecate to view the moment of my daughters life. The photos grew closer and closer to my daughters birthday. I could see the day I have her a tiny bike after she turned five and all the skinned knees that came with it. The book had so many more pages, I assumed they were all …show more content…
Her seventh birthday had a photo of me and her covered in paint on the back porch with a huge canvas on the floor and and an extremely messy painting. Her seven thing birthday...
Her seventh birthday. The reality of what was inside this book hit me and I slammed the book shut. I sat there at the kitchen table staring at the leather book sitting in front of me. This must be some crazy photoshop. I hoped someone had taken the time to pull a horrid prank on me. I said I hoped because they couldn't be another explanation. There just couldn't be. Gritting my teeth, I decided I had nothing to lose and with a big breathe, I kept on reading. I can't explain how I felt turning these pages one by one and seeing my daughters life still go on. Nothing could prepare you for something like this. Her life continued, showing her losing her baby teeth to her first day of her senior class in high school. My turning the pages became more frenzied and I began to notice something. As she got older the photographer grew closer. Not in every picture, but as a general trend, he was getting closer and closer. More daring I guess I should