I Spent 17 Years Photographing One Family’s Grief and Growth
Rich St. Pierre was seven when his mother passed away suddenly. People who cared about him believed that “she had gone to a better place.” What could be better than the comforts of home, just with his brothers and sisters? When he was a teenager and became a teenager, he had no memories and just some photos of his mum. In the end, she disappeared.
After more than 30 years, Rich faced another tragedy, the one he loved the most; Carolynne, the mother of his son and the parent of two daughters from her previous relationship – has been diagnosed with the rare and highly aggressive form of liver cancer. Rich determined to do all possible to ensure that his son Elijah or EJ or EJ, as people call him, wouldn’t go through the same loss that he experienced.
Carolynne was the maternity nurse known for her sharp wit, endured many intense experimental treatments throughout New England, desperate to gain more time. As time was scarce, Rich and Carolynne shifted their attention to journaling, writing letters, and making videos for their kids. They also allowed two journalists from the local paper to document the final days of their family together with Carolynne.
I was 28 years old and a photographer at The Concord Monitor in New Hampshire. I had no idea how to handle an article such as this. When I was 45, I’m probably not sure. For the past 17 years, I’ve watched Rich and EJ as an observer in a documentary and, later, as a close family friend. Because I’m not on camera, it’s never apparent for me to be getting older with him. However, my artistic development mirrored EJ’s development as a person. My relationship with St. Pierres taught me almost all I know about intimacy and storytelling, both living and dying.
When I first began taking pictures of the Family, EJ had just turned 3. It was the year before his mother passed away at 44. He would sneer at me when I discussed “SpongeBob SquarePants” and hit me when he was upset, which, logically, was frequent. I was a nagging adult coming and going out of the home.
A few years later, when I went back to town for a visit to check on how they were doing, EJ talked to me in complete sentences. He showed me his pet lizard. It seemed like pure magic.
Besides graduations and birthdays, I’ve also captured the marks of time in Rich and EJ’s life. These include the fading of furniture, the remnants of fingerprints, the growth of trees, and removal. My goal is to broaden the scope of my photography so that others can see the people’s experiences in these photographs. Everyone experiences the loss of life, but it’s more complicated for certain people, those who are more sensitive. One photo of a switch in St. Pierre’s upstairs bedroom brings back memories of my parent’s divorce.
Oddly, I observe EJ grow older while Carolynne doesn’t. Yet, I’m constantly amazed by this process. Rich is a critical thinker with a quiet sensitivity, continually seeking the right thing. Rich states that more than anything else, he recognizes the sweetness of Carolynne EJ. When I inquired about EJ’s memories, he could not provide any personal memories of his mother. He does have the journal she kept, and photos taken by her can be found around the home. He also claims it’s hard to remember a moment when I hadn’t taken pictures of him.
A long time ago, I decided that the notion of family was flexible. It was to have the following characteristics: When I was a gay teenager living within North Carolina, I often felt an apprehension of being a part of the world and being rejected. Friends and I used to refer to the gay community in the same way as “family.” My spouse was adopted, and we decided we would not have kids. Nowadays, there are then, entirely, a myriad of forms families can adopt.
However, I’m unsure I’ve learned more about the importance of family as Rich. “It’s the staying power,” Rich told me in the past. Rich is among a handful of people I can say I love you when I end my call. He might be a single dad today, but in the years I’ve known his family, the Saint. Pierre’s family, EJ, is a family member with more than one could imagine. I’m fortunate to be among the lucky ones.
