(The Graf Family snuggles in around their son Parker at Crescent Cove Respite and Hospice Home for Kids in Minnesota. Photo by Jim Bovin.)
On Love, Grace and Dignity
By Jim Bovin
When it comes to End-of-Life care, it takes a team of nurses, chaplains, social workers, and child-life specialists to give comfort and support to a family that has a terminally ill child. Part of that support is contacting a bereavement photographer.
I’ve been a professional photographer for more than 30 years. For the past 14 years, I’ve also volunteered as a bereavement photographer. I’m called by hospital staff to enter the room of grieving parents, siblings, and extended family members during the final days, hours, or minutes of a child’s life. The children range in age from newborn to teenagers. The time I spend photographing parents with their child ranges from minutes to hours.
My career began as a photojournalist and that background informs the way in which I approach bereavement photography. It isn’t permissible to stage a photo for news. Photos should be candid, natural, and as a person sees the event taking place. There is no studio, lighting, or backdrop. I want the family to see photos that reflect exactly how things looked to them in that moment, so I use what’s happening in these small rooms where I shoot them as they are. It’s moment families never want to forget and my photo should help them do just that: remember.
Walking into a room to photograph a terminally ill child or a child who has already passed away is difficult. Stress can take hold of me because the family is relying on me to capture the final moments of the life of their loved one. I don’t want to miss a moment or make a mistake. I usually take a deep breath, pray, and begin.
No two families grieve alike, and all should be allowed to do so as they need. Some parents want photos of them holding their child’s hand and ask for complete privacy, other parents invite many members of their extended family and friends to enter the room. No request is too big or too small, and I try to honor them all.
Just before I begin photographing, most families say, “We don’t know what to do?” I make suggestions which often times includes asking them to lie next to their child or hold their baby amongst the endless medical cords and tubes. I suggest they snuggle in, hold them, and just be.
I’ve come to know when to photograph and when to step back with my camera down. Listening and observing intently as a photographer is crucial to capturing loving, tender moments with children and parents.
Speak softly. Move quietly. Listen.
Repeating their child’s name over and over again while I document is important. It demonstrates compassion during this, the most difficult time of their lives.
I have faith. It’s simple and perhaps cliché, but I do believe the children I photograph are in a better place after they die. The comfort my faith gives me helps me walk into each room for every session.
It might surprise many people when I say that the photo editing process is the most difficult. I hope the photos will give the family peace and comfort in time. As I view each photo, this weighs heavily on my mind. I remember each family, every photo, every session. This clarity guides me to help the next family. I learn with every interaction.
In my mind and heart, I am not the owner of these images. The families are the sole owners. Their lives, their stories.
(NOTE FROM THE EDITOR AND PHOTOGRAPHER: We obtained permission to publish and exhibit these photos from each of the three families included in the “SOME PEOPLE” project. We remain deeply grateful for their openness, unfathomable generosity, kindness and intention.)