A few weeks ago, I found myself in midtown on a Sunday morning and pleasantly realized I was quite close to the church of Saint Francis of Assisi, a church that I generally remember being a well-attended, well-maintained, beautiful Catholic church. I cheerfully decided to go to mass, a switch-up to my usual routine.
To my shock, the moment I walked in, emotions and memories triggered so strongly in me. Waves of reminiscent sorrow, desperation, and distress, flooded my body as the golden pillars and elaborate allegorical images and stained glass flashed memories of weekly prayers here from years ago. When the cantor sang the hymns in the same, powerful voice of a Broadway singer, her intonation and ethereal praising was exactly the same — stunningly glorious, raising straight to the heavens. Couple that with the harmonious notes on the piano, reverberating music around the entire church, tears came to my eyes. The painful memories were crystal clear, triggered by the unique sight of a building and sound of music so unchanged in the last five years, that I felt transported to the past.
Memories buried away, for its grief and test of faith, when prayers for my best friend to recover and live, went unanswered. It’s well known that senses can trigger memories, typically smell or taste most often quipped. Funny though how sight and hearing can also trigger emotions that immediately feel so raw.
*Reference to Anastasia on Broadway, where the character smells the orange blossom perfume on the Dowager Empress, which she recognizes as a scent associated with her grandmother, from long lost memories
