When I tell people that I am starting my business as a Hospice Photographer, the immediate reaction is shock and dismay. I agree, it is not the typical genre of photography service one hears of let alone speaks of.
After all, Hospice equates to death and death is not a topic openly discussed. It is more so a taboo subject that we tend to avoid at all cost because of the fear which encompasses it. Yet this is the genre I have chosen. I have always enjoyed and appreciated art of any form. I may not like a particular piece of art, but I recognize it as art and art carries a different significance for each individual. There is no right or wrong art, just likes or dislikes. Art is a reflection of our personal opinions.
Over the years I have experimented with various genres of photography and although each and every one has its “value”, it is Hospice Photography that I have chosen for a career choice. Granted it is a “late in life” career choice, actually I consider it my retirement career choice. Photography may not have been my financial career over the years, but it is a part of my soul. I’m happy to give up my job, but I will not give up my camera.
I’ve been carrying a camera for most of my life. I’ll be the first to admit, a majority of my photos may not be of great significance or art worthy to most, but they all carry some memory for me. Whether the photos are of momentous occasions, family gatherings, beautiful sunset or the curve of a flower petal, they are all a part of my memories. All these memories have created who I am.
When I received the phone call from my sister-in-law that my brother was leaving the nursing facility to go into home hospice I immediately booked a flight. As usual, where I go, my camera goes. At the time, it wasn’t my intention to take photos of my brother’s end of life, but rather to take photos for remembrance.
To be honest, I think a part of me was in denial that my brother was dying. We were close in spirit but not in distance which rarely allowed us to be present with each other. So, this was a time I wanted photos to commemorate of our time together, just as I would any other time. Although, in the depth of my heart, I knew these would be our last moments to share in this world and I knew they would be significant. I just didn’t know why or how significant.
When I first arrived, my camera was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted to do is to see my brother. Leaving all my luggage on the kitchen floor I ran to see my brother. He was unable to get out of bed by this time and to see my protector so thin and weak was a shock. He was virtually unrecognizable. That shock didn’t last long. As soon as I felt his arms around me and his voice saying my name my brother returned.
The first couple of days, I didn’t take any photos of my brother. I went for walks, always with my camera. I never went far, just in case. Photographing the beauty of the sunrise or the fall colors in the neighborhood, that was my therapy. Then he got “the rally”. He was awake, hungry, laughing, teasing,
the camera came out. I was able to capture some of his last moments that are some of my most precious memories. We had our last beer together, he teased everyone including the hospice caretakers, no one was excluded from his teasing. The laughter and love that filled that room was incredible.
The time came when we had to help control his pain. He began sleeping more with less activity. It was at this time my camera became my way of documenting his story, what made up this beautiful soul. I was able to get a variety of photos that formed this wonderful man, his hat, his shoes, clothes in the closet. I photographed the care package, to represent “the change”. It was filled with medication that would help alleviate the pain, the agitation and other symptoms of the last stages of life.
During this time he was rarely able to verbally communicate, yet his expressions spoke volumes. Photos of him looking out the window, deep in thought, I can feel the calm and peace through his expression. Other photos of his hand being held by his wife and his dog sitting vigil shows the love and devotion shared.
One day when returning from one of my walks, I noticed the ramp to their home. Nothing fancy, pretty ordinary to any person passing by, but it was at that moment that I realized the significance of that ramp. He will use it twice, once to come home and once to go home. Then there is the photo of his empty hospital bed. This is reality. The bed is empty, he is no longer physically with us, he is no longer in pain, but his love lives on.
I didn’t realize how valuable these photos were at the time I was taking them. It wasn’t until I returned home and downloaded them onto my computer that I noticed what I captured. It wasn’t the portrait of my brother, it wasn’t the things he used in his life, it wasn’t the medication that would alleviate his pain. These may be what others see. What I see is the love that was shared. The compassion of that love that helped him alleviate pain so he could be free, The miles that were put on his shoes from walking his dog that he loved. The shade that protected those caring eyes of his. His wife’s chubby little hand that he loved to hold. It is the love, the laughter, the compassion, the life.
I’ve gotten excited about some of the photos I have taken in the past, but these photos, there are no words that could adequately express the feeling I get when I look at them. There is nothing in comparison. This is why I choose Hospice Photography. I want to share the profound experience of living. I have, and will continue, to produce other pieces of photographic art, but my desire is to help others through offering Hospice Photography.
Best Wishes
