I talk a lot about how my portrait sessions with sibling loss are always so tender for me, the loss of a sibling tragically and suddenly – is an experience no one really understands or talks about. It’s a very unique kind of loss. So often times, there are similarities – which of course, bring up blooms for us to tend to. I am no exception to that rule.

We lost our siblings within a year of each other, and both of them had suffered with schizophrenia. But even more; certain family dynamics, and the layers that unfold after a tragedy like this in a family – were all very parallel. 

Right when Nicole walked in I could feel her energy – nervous but positive and hopeful about sharing. She pulled a gift out of her bag, a small piece of selenite that had basked in the full moon a few days before. I knew at that moment we were meant to connect, like her sister and my brother, wanted to make sure we crossed paths at this point of our grief journey.

This story does have some details that are difficult to read, so I ask that you take care of your blooms. I know I could very easily edit out things to create less discomfort, but the blooms exist for a reason. They are here to guide you as you move through healing. They are your body telling you when to pause, take a breath and listen to your plant. So if this piece does indeed bring some things into bloom within yourself, remember to give that part of you grace and space to move around in it, at your own pace.

Now, here are some quotes from our portrait session, followed by some closing notes from Nicole, after her session, and my photographer’s notes.  – M

NICOLE

My sister Brittany was 22 years old when she died in 2008. We were just two years apart. We had a sort of “picture perfect” childhood. Great parents and a wonderful life. I grew up very naive as to the world around me. In high school, my sister and I had different friends. I was a late bloomer, and she wasn’t, even though I was older. She experimented before me with things like sex, drugs etc. I was so naive and didn’t quite understand it all. 

Once when I was 15, I walked by her room and she looked different. She told me she had taken a bottle of tylenol. I didn’t know what suicide was at that age. I didn’t understand what she meant and what was happening.

“I never told my parents. I just sat up with her that night, and watched her chest go up and down.“

When she was about 14 she was admitted into Children’s inpatient. We couldn’t tell anyone, I was just supposed to say she was sick.

I went away to college and my sister started to spiral. I would come  home on breaks and friends would voice their concerns about her to me. My sophomore year she called me and said “Nicole, mom can hear my thoughts.” That call was a shift in my world. My mom got on the phone and said I should come home, that there were things happening.

She was put into inpatient and diagnosed with schizophrenia affective disorder. They didn’t know what to do for her, so she became a guinea pig for lots of trial meds and methods. My sister was an energetic, fun, electric person. The next time I saw her, she wasn’t. The meds had made her mute. 

At one point she didn’t believe i was her real sister, and that dad wasn’t her real dad. One point she was yelling at our mom, demanding to know who her real dad was. I insisted I could show her her birth certificate, I was so naive. But that wasn’t something she wanted to hear. 

She tried every single drug and drank on her psych meds, which was so dangerous. My sister had such a sad life. I felt so bad, so many things kept happening. She took herself off all her meds at one point. I can just imagine the noise but also clarity she had about her situation. We tried to get her admitted but she was taking care of herself and eating so we couldn’t. 

My sister didn’t believe in a lot of things. But the night before she died, she told our mom “God accepts people like me first.” I texted her that night to let her know I was there to talk or if she needed anything. She replied that she loved me too.

The next day I went over in the morning to my parents house. I usually go to say hi to my sister first but I didn’t. She was in the bath. I remember I was eating cereal out of the box when my dad comes running downstairs yelling asking where Brittany was. He ran outside. My mom ran to the big front window in horror and told me to stop and not get any closer. She started to cry while she was on the phone with 911. Dad came in sobbing “She’s dead, she’s gone.” 

I called my husband and he arrived at the same time as the ambulance and police. I was the one that had to talk to them first and then start calling family. The fall didn’t take her life right away. And the ambulance needed me to move my car, but I was unable to go out, I couldn’t see her. When I saw the stretcher I started to scream. In the car on the way to Harborview I said out loud,

“I don’t know what I should be praying for. If she is hearing voices and going to be paralyzed, I don’t know what to ask for.”

We were put into a family room at the hospital to wait. The doctor came in and said Brittany had not made it. There was a tidal wave of emotions in the room. Screaming. Collapsing. 

I’ve been in therapy since 2008. I had to be the adult immediately. Had to organize things and tell my extended family. Since then I’ve been in charge of the holidays and trying to get life back to a “new normal”. I wasn’t able to look out my parents’ front windows until about 4 years ago. 

We had a memorial at my parents house and 2-300 people showed up. So many people didn’t know she had schizophrenia. It was a shock to so many. The day was overwhelmingly beautiful. I stayed outside more of the time because it was so hard to go in. It felt like I turned into a host, just thanking people for coming. Everything I wore that day was hers. I was so lost in the overwhelming presence of everyone being there. 

2 years ago I did a speech for NAMI. I was struggling with separating my story from my sisters. I think Death can break us down, to the point where either we stay in those broken pieces, or we learn to take those pieces and make something out of it. 

My understanding now of mental health and suicide has made me so much more understanding about how alone people can feel. I feel more connected to my sister now than when she was alive. 

Learning about death and grief gives you new eyes for life and other people. I know I found myself in that darkness. I tried my best to turn it into something beautiful. 

Nicole – Post Session thoughts

I’ve spoken about my sister and her story for 17 years now but never in this type of setting. M has created such a warm, welcoming and safe space to have such a complicated and hard conversation surrounding such a heavy topic. It felt so wonderful to connect with someone who ultimately knows your pain, sees the darkness and the light and carries your heart and your tears so gently and compassionately. 

My sister Brittany was such a vibrant life force full of strength, resilience, magic, intelligence and beauty. Her ability to have compassion, empathy and care for others despite the battle she faced with schizophrenia, was inspiring. To know her, to feel her energy, to listen to her laugh, to see her face obstacles and bumps in the road created a manuscript for my life. I can only hope that I can continue to bring the light she left behind and let it radiate, which is why I have continued to speak about her and tell her story which has ultimately collided with mine and become one. 

Healing is not peaceful. It is full of obstacles but also full of triumphs. Healing isn’t holding it in, keeping it in a safe cage… it’s about letting it out. Facing the darkness and remembering that there is light, even the faintest flicker. I want to thank M for this absolutely necessary, beautiful and important project. It was truly an honor to speak with them about my sister and to also hear their story. Thank you for holding space and keeping the light. 

M’s Photographers Notes: 

This week I have been going through some of the early photos in this project – in preparation for a gallery exhibit I am putting together to kick off mental health awareness month this Fall, and it was interesting looking at my improvement as a photographer over the now 8 years of this work. I truly have learned to hone my craft and very specific type of photography as I go. 

I will be honest, I have lots of sessions where I can’t blow up photos, for various reasons; my light wasn’t strong enough or I wasn’t in perfect focus etc. I used to let it bum me out, and get self critical of my mistakes. See it as a “missed opportunity” when in reality, I now know these sessions are 90% about the conversation between two people, and 10% about the photos. They are a lovely afterthought, proof we shared space and our stories. 

Now I see them as rungs in the ladder, notches in my belt, my growth in lines in the doorframe. Being self taught means there are no rules, which is just how I prefer it. Nicole’s photos reminded me that I know what I’m doing and to focus on capturing the spirit of people. I am really looking forward to sharing this new exhibit with you all this Fall, its nothing like I have ever put together. 

Thank you Nicole for trusting me with the memory of your sister, as well as with the sometimes painful and tender parts of your story. I am so grateful to have you as part of this project.