Rich St. Pierre was only 7 years old when he experienced the sudden loss of his mother. People would offer condolences by saying that she had gone to a “better place”, but Rich couldn’t understand what could be better than being at home with his family. As he grew older, with few memories and limited photographs of his mother, she slowly faded from his mind.
Over 30 years later, tragedy struck again when Rich’s partner, Carolynne, the mother of his son Elijah (also known as EJ) and two other children from her previous marriage, was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of liver cancer. Determined to protect his son from the pain he had experienced, Rich did everything he could to support Carolynne in her fight against the disease. They shifted their focus to journaling, writing letters, and recording videos for their children. Additionally, they allowed two journalists to document their family’s final months with Carolynne.
During this time, I was a 28-year-old photographer working for The Concord Monitor in New Hampshire. I had no prior experience navigating such a sensitive and emotional story. Now, at the age of 45, I still don’t claim to have all the answers. However, over the past 17 years, I have had the privilege of witnessing Rich and EJ’s journey as both a documentary observer and a close family friend. Although I may not always realize it since I am behind the camera, I have grown and evolved as an artist alongside EJ’s personal growth. My relationship with the St. Pierre family has taught me invaluable lessons about intimacy, storytelling, and the complexities of life and death.
When I first started photographing the family, EJ was just a 3-year-old boy. It was the year before his mother passed away at the age of 44. At that time, he would shush me when I interrupted his favorite show, “SpongeBob SquarePants,” and express his anger by hitting me, which was understandable given the circumstances. I was just another adult entering and leaving their lives.
But a year or two later, when I visited them again, I witnessed a magical transformation. EJ spoke to me in full sentences and proudly showed me his pet lizard. It was a moment of pure joy and wonder.
Throughout the years, I documented significant milestones in Rich and EJ’s lives: from EJ’s awkward adolescence to his triumphant performance in eighth grade as a grown-up Simba in “The Lion King,” a character grappling with the loss of a parent. These images serve as markers of time, capturing the essence of their journey. My goal is to capture the universal aspects of their experiences so that others can find echoes of their own lives in these photographs. Loss is a part of everyone’s journey, although some may experience it more acutely. For me, a photograph of a light switch in the St. Pierres’ bedroom brings back memories of my parents’ divorce.
It is difficult for me to comprehend that I am able to witness EJ grow up while Carolynne cannot. Yet, I am continually amazed by the resilience and strength that EJ displays. He is a critical thinker with a quiet empathy, always searching for what is right. Rich often sees glimpses of Carolynne’s sweetness in their son. Although EJ doesn’t remember his mother firsthand, he cherishes the journal she kept and the scattered photographs of her throughout their home. He also acknowledges that I have always been there, capturing moments of his life through photography.
I have long believed that the concept of family is flexible and adaptable. This belief stemmed from my experiences as a queer teenager in North Carolina, where I often felt alienated and rejected. In those times, my friends and I referred to each other as “family.” Additionally, my decision not to have biological children and my spouse’s adoption have shaped my perspective on what family means. Today, there is a diverse range of family structures that we can celebrate.
However, no one has taught me more about the true meaning of family than Rich. He constantly emphasizes the importance of staying connected and has become one of the few people I freely express my love for. Although he is now a single father, EJ has been surrounded by an incredible support network throughout my time with the St. Pierres. I count myself lucky to be a part of that network.
I am Preston Gannaway, a Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer and artist residing in the San Francisco Bay Area. My forthcoming book, “Remember Me,” features a collection of photographs documenting the lives of Rich and EJ St. Pierre.
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