Photography

A Missing Face in the Kitchen Window

publish date
September 13, 2020
project type
Documentary Photography
Publication
America Reimagined

A missing face in the kitchen window

Almost every day of childhood, I walked up the hill from my school bus stop to see my Aunt Cindy looking into the golden light, waiting for my sister, Jenna, and I to visit after school. We spent so much time together making crafts, playing games, and watching movies. Our favorite game was when Cindy would pretend to chase us home. After walking out the back door we would sneak to the front, ring the bell, and wait with bated breath until we’d all burst into a chorus of laughter when she’d find us there. Jenna was exceptionally sneaky. Since 2015, I have been documenting my grandparents and Aunt Cindy, who are also my next-door neighbors. My photographs were simply a collection of family pictures trying to recreate childhood memories. That was until 2020, which put this family, along with many others’ in a dire situation. This piece was published, along with more of my work, as a part of the Boyd's Station American Reimagined project, which documented the pandemic experience from inside one's own community. You can see this piece and others here: https://americanreportage.com/tw-portfolio/america-reimagined-cling-wrap/
My grandparents' and Aunt Cindy's house in Fleetwood, Pennsylvania.
Mary, Clayton, and Cindy Reed stand together in a picture that hangs in their home office.
Mary, Clayton, and Cindy Reed stand together in front of the kitchen window, September 6, 2019.
Aunt Cindy lived with her parents, Mary and Clayton, my 85-year-old grandparents, “Gremmy and Pappy,” for all of her life in Fleetwood, Pennsylvania. Pappy built the home and ran his small construction business in town. He never had more than two employees. After “retiring” in 2010, he spent his time working in his wood shop, renovating the house, playing on a senior citizens softball team, and building a garden. She might not admit it, but from the moment her daughter was born, Gremmy took on a job, too: taking care of Cindy for as long as she would live. Cindy was born in 1958 with physical disabilities and an intellectual disorder, which went undiagnosed even after research continued well into the 21st century. Cindy, who communicated through actions rather than words, was expected to live approximately 20 years, but instead lived a fulfilling 62-years with her family.
Their lives were so flawlessly intertwined. Breakfast was followed by work, which was followed by supper and their nighties. Pappy spent most of his days in his workshop or in the garden. Gremmy prided herself in baking and enjoyed reading on her quiet afternoons at home. Cindy spent her weekdays working at Prospectus Berco, a nonprofit establishment, which aids intellectually disabled people in life skills and for many, serves as their home base.

Left: Gremmy zips Cindy’s jacket before she leaves for work April 30, 2019.

Right: Cindy stands in the living room where “All in the Family” plays on TV. Prospectus Berco had shut its doors due to the Covid-19 pandemic just a few days earlier

Pappy helps Cindy tie her shoe after she arrives home from work August 8, 2019.
Cindy's vast movie collection is shelved in her bedroom August 9, 2019.
Meanwhile, COVID-19 was spreading rapidly and public health policy was changing daily in the United States. On March 16, 2020, non-essential workplaces, schools, and businesses were shut down by Pennsylvania’s Governor Tom Wolf, which included Prospectus Berco. Elderly people and those with pre-existing health conditions were said to be at most risk of contracting the often fatal disease, and everyone was urged to stay home. Left: Gremmy stands for a portrait in her dining room window March 20, 2020. She would not allow guests in the house anymore. Right: Cindy sits in front of the TV, which plays news about new COVID-19 restrictions in Pennsylvania, March 20, 2020.

Left: Gremmy stands for a portrait in her dining room March 20, 2020. 

Right: Cindy sits in front of the TV, which plays news about COVID-19 restrictions that have hit Pennsylvania March 20, 2020. 

Cindy's medical paperwork covers the dining room table April 20, 2020.
Gremmy and Pappy were worried, and tried to follow COVID-19 protocol by staying inside without guests, but they were left without a choice as Cindy’s condition worsened. Her family doctor had previously prescribed antibiotics three times between February and March and to no avail before they were able to get an appointment with a digestive disease specialist in April who advised them to come back when the pandemic slowed.

Left: Cindy smiles as she looks out the kitchen window toward evening sun, March 8, 2020. 

Right: Cindy sits in her wheelchair, unable to walk and uninterested in watching TV, eating meals, or socializing, July 8, 2020. 

Gremmy stands at the kitchen window after a clipped conversation about her daughter's health. In May, Gremmy fought to get to the digestive specialist one more time. This time, 3 months into Cindy’s illness, she was diagnosed with metastatic colon cancer.
Surgery, tests, doctors appointments and test results, cast a grim shadow over a house I’ve only known to be flooded with light. Gremmy and Pappy decided not to put Cindy through chemo for what would only be considered palliative care. They were tasked with more hands-on full time care than ever before, and at 85-years-old, it was clear they were strained physically and emotionally. Just one year after suffering a brain bleed, Pappy was now doing the heavy lifting to care for his daughter. Three to four times a day he lifted Cindy out of her in-home hospital bed for baths or meals. When a home health aid arrived to help in August, he appeared reluctant to accept assistance. Pappy, weak from months of intense physical labor, and Gremmy, weary someone could tear away everything she knew of motherhood, trusted no one other than themselves and their family to care for their daughter.

Left: Cindy visits Pappy after he suffered a brain bleed from falling off a ladder in his wood shop June 30, 2019. 

Right: Cindy sits in her wheelchair at the breakfast table, July 1, 2020. 

Mary and Cindy sat together on the couch, September 19, 2018.
A hospital bed is placed in their living room for Cindy's comfort once she has entered hospice, July 8, 2020.
My grandparents were forced not only to accept help caring for their daughter, but also to allow new faces into their homes despite the COVID-19 pandemic. They tried to limit in-home care to family members, but also received help via a home healthcare worker sent through Cindy’s disability waiver. Other visitors included hospice workers, visiting nurses, physical and occupational therapists, and social workers.

Left: The family eats dinner together August 1, 2019. Cindy always loved meals with her family, especially ice cream cake on birthdays.

Right: Cindy sits in her wheelchair at the breakfast table, August 8, 2020. At this point, she was having trouble getting out of bed and eating. 

In a time when most of their elderly friends were lonely, the Reeds were not afforded alone time. It was a matter of choosing between their daughter's physical comfort while dying from cancer, or preventative social distancing.
Cindy died on August 29, 2020, less than 24 hours after 5 of her cousins came to visit her. They gathered knowing they might not see her again.
Gremmy and Pappy had more time in quarantine than they were allowed in the first 8-months of the year. There were no longer appointments, healthcare workers or family members inside their home. 2020 had already placed an empty chair at the dinner table, so Gremmy and Pappy were incredibly worried about exposure to the virus. They allowed outdoor visitors for one meal per week on Thursdays. Lonliness makes the grieving process even more difficult.

Left: Cindy sits next to her dad while he plays a card game, March 8, 2020. 

Right: Pappy stands next to flowers he bought for he and Gremmy’s 65th wedding anniversary, November 7, 2020. 

It was insightful to be a witness to so many moments my grandparents and Cindy shared, some of which they didn’t even realize were special. But I got a new perspective in 2020, when I was on-call to help with the heavy lifting to care for Cindy. It goes without saying that my Gremmy and Pappy are two of the strongest people I know, and that they did the best job in the world taking care of their daughter, but when I got a little closer, I gained a new appreciation for their dedication as I photographed them during the last five years. I have evidence of what Cindy gave to this world, both through those she has touched and those who have touched her.

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margo@margoreedstudio.com