death and dying. I really “got” the termination thing. My father died when I was 3, and my
grandparents were gone before I turned 10. I worked in a hospital HIV unit in the 80’s. I was seasoned.
left behind a legacy of photographs that kept him alive for me. Photographs equaled immortality. At 13, I picked up a Brownie Starflash
and snapped pictures of everything I wanted to keep forever. The Starflash became a Polaroid, and I
used it to photograph everyone who came to my house. I traded Polaroid for Kodachrome when my first son was born.
no one left me.
My middle sister, Jane, was diagnosed with rheumatoid
arthritis when I was 24, and she was 30. Jane and I were very close. She lived in CT; I live in OH, but I visited often and called
daily. I idolized her. Before disease took her hair, teeth,
and mobility, people mistook her for Kim Novak or Marilyn Monroe. She had pins put into her toes, so she
could wear shoes, but eventually, her toes curled, she stopped walking, and
shoes were simply decoration on a girl who never lost hope. She ran her life from her bed
surrounded by windows. She was an
artist who never stopped creating.
I have another sister, Phyllis. …had another sister,
Phyllis. She was 11 years older
than I, and I idolized her as well.
She was super smart. She
graduated from Pratt where she was snow queen and designed dresses for 25
years. She taught me everything I
know about style and composition.
Phyllis moved to New York 5 years ago to live closer to her
daughters and granddaughters. She
sold her house, packed her car, and faced an unknown housing situation with
gusto. I took a lot of pictures of her house being packed and the moving van
taking her away. I’d be fine
without her, filling my sad places with her happiness and looking at photo
On Phyllis’s 71st birthday she was diagnosed with
pancreatic cancer, 2 years after moving to New York. While Phyllis was being
treated, Jane was hospitalized 5 times with pneumonia, and we barely noticed.
Pneumonia didn’t seem serious in the face of pancreatic cancer… except to Jane,
who felt exhausted, terrified, and alone.
Phyllis died in October, and in July, Jane was hospitalized
with pneumonia…for the last time. I
was with both of my sisters when they died. It turns out I am not so good at
Illness forced my beautiful
and active sisters into a horizontal life. They were television watchers and HSN shoppers. I find comfort and a connection to them
in this position, television on with my window worldview. A horizontal life is a universal
experience. Illness, depression,
and disability create lateral living, and I suspect each of us has either known
someone in this position or perhaps has been supine as well.
I am in mourning with my camera right here next to me on the