How to Prepare for a Hospice Photo Session

If you are reading this, you are likely standing in one of the tenderest places a family ever finds itself. Someone you love is in hospice care, and somewhere underneath all the medication schedules and the quiet hallways, a thought has surfaced: I want to remember them. I want our family to be together, and I want it kept. I want you to know that this is not a strange or morbid wish. It is one of the most loving instincts I encounter in my work, and it deserves to be honored with care.

I have photographed families across the desert for many years — weddings in Indian Wells, newborns in La Quinta, four generations crowded onto a sofa in Palm Desert. But the sessions that have stayed with me longest are the ones made beside a hospice bed, where the only thing anyone is trying to hold onto is each other. I want to walk you through how to prepare for one, gently and practically, so that on the day itself you can simply be present instead of organizing.

First, give yourself permission

Before any of the logistics, I want to address the feeling that often sits underneath this whole idea: the worry that wanting photographs now is somehow wrong. That it is rushing things, or inviting grief, or that your loved one might feel like a subject when they are already so vulnerable.

In my experience it is almost always the opposite. Being photographed — being seen, deliberately and lovingly — tends to feel affirming to the person at the center of it. It says: you still matter, your face is still the one we want, your hand in your daughter's hand is still worth keeping. For many people in care, the session becomes the brightest hour of a hard week — a reason to put on the cardigan they like, to have their hair done, to be surrounded.

So if any part of this feels right to you, that instinct is trustworthy. The rest of this guide is just the practical scaffolding around it.

Talk with your loved one first, if you can

Whenever the person is alert enough to take part in the decision, I always encourage families to ask them directly. Not as a heavy conversation, but a simple one: We'd love to have some photographs made of all of us together. Would you like that?

Some people light up immediately. Others want to know they will not have to "perform," or that they can stay in bed, or that they won't be photographed in a way that feels clinical. Those wishes are easy to accommodate, and knowing them ahead of time lets me plan around them. If your loved one has a clear preference — a favorite chair, a particular blanket, being photographed only from a certain side, no medical equipment in frame — tell me when we talk. None of it is a complication. It is simply how we make the session theirs.

If the person is no longer able to weigh in, that is all right too. You, as the family, are allowed to make this choice out of love.

Coordinate with the hospice team early

This is the single most practical thing you can do, and doing it early removes almost all the stress from the day.

Hospice staff — whether at home or in a facility like one of the care communities in Rancho Mirage, Palm Desert, or Indio — are wonderful partners in this. They live alongside families in exactly these moments, and they understand the value of memory-keeping. Here is what to ask them:

• The best time of day. Most patients have a window when they are most comfortable and most awake — often mid-morning, after medications have settled and before afternoon fatigue. Your nurse or aide will know your loved one's rhythm better than a calendar does.
• Medication timing. Sometimes a session is scheduled a little before or after pain medication so the person is comfortable but not too drowsy. The care team can help you find that balance.
• Facility policies. If your loved one is in a memory care or skilled nursing setting, ask whether visiting photographers are welcome and whether there is any sign-in or scheduling process. In my experience, valley facilities are gracious about this, but it is kind to give them notice.
• Room logistics. Ask whether the bed can be raised or repositioned, whether equipment can be temporarily moved aside, and where the natural light comes from.

I am always happy to speak directly with a nurse or social worker myself to coordinate. Families often find it a relief to hand that piece off.

Don't wait for a "better day"

I say this as gently as I can, because it is the hardest and most important piece of advice in this guide: if you are thinking about doing this, do it sooner rather than later.

Hospice can move slowly for a long while and then quickly. The families who carry regret are almost never the ones who said yes too early — they are the ones who waited for a day when everyone could travel, when their loved one might be "more themselves," when the timing felt less raw. That day sometimes does not come. A session that happens this week, even a short and imperfect one, is worth infinitely more than a beautifully-planned one that never happens.

If you are local to the Coachella Valley, I keep room in my schedule specifically so that I can come quickly when a family needs me to. A few days' notice is plenty; same-week is often possible.

What to expect on the day

I want to take the mystery out of this, because not knowing is its own kind of stress.

I arrive quietly and travel light. I bring minimal equipment — a camera and a couple of lenses, no large lights or rolling cases banging through the hallway. I do not need to rearrange a room or take it over. I would rather work with the space exactly as it is.

I work with available light. Bedside light is soft and forgiving, and it is honest. A window with the sheers drawn, the warm lamp by the bed — these make far more tender images than any studio setup would. If your loved one's room faces the desert sun, we may simply diffuse it through a curtain. I almost never use a flash in these settings; it is jarring, and it flattens the very warmth we are trying to keep.

We go at the person's pace, not the clock's. If your loved one needs to rest partway through, we rest. If they are only up for twenty minutes, twenty minutes is enough. I have made images families treasure forever in the span of a single short visit.

Nothing is forced. I am not going to ask anyone to "say cheese." I am watching for the real things — the way a husband smooths his wife's hair back, the way a granddaughter leans her head onto a shoulder, hands folded together, a quiet laugh at an old joke. Those are the frames that turn out to matter. You do not have to manufacture them; you only have to be together, and let me notice.

Who should be there

This is entirely your family's call, and there is no right answer. Some families want everyone — children, grandchildren, the great-grandbaby — gathered for a few group frames. Others want it intimate: just a spouse, just the kids. Many want both, and we make a few of each.

A few things worth thinking about ahead of time:

• Children. Including kids can be beautiful, and it can also be a lot to manage in a small room. If you bring little ones, it helps to have one adult whose job is simply to tend to them so the rest of you can be present.
• The person who is always behind the camera. In nearly every family there is one person — often a daughter, often the primary caregiver — who has taken every photograph for decades and is therefore in none of them. Please, this time, let yourself be in the picture. You will want to be there later.
• Generational frames. If you have four generations available, even briefly, we should make at least one frame of all of them. Those images become anchors for a family for the rest of its history.

Small things that help

You do not need to do much to prepare, but a few small choices make a difference:

• Clothing and comfort. A favorite sweater, a soft familiar shirt, a piece of jewelry your loved one always wore. Nothing has to be formal. What looks like them matters far more than what is dressy. For everyone else, soft solid colors photograph beautifully and keep the eye on faces.
• Tidy the immediate frame, not the whole room. It is enough to clear the bedside table of cups and tissues and to set aside anything you would not want in a photograph. I will work around the rest.
• Have water and a moment of rest ready. Sessions like these are emotional for everyone. It is normal to need a pause, a tissue, a glass of water. Build that expectation in and the day flows more gently.
• Bring a meaningful object, if you'd like. A wedding ring, a worn Bible, a quilt, a beloved dog. Objects carry stories, and including one or two can add a layer of meaning to the images.
• Consider hands. When faces are tired, hands tell the whole truth — wedding bands worn thin, fingers laced together, a thumb stroking the back of a hand. I always make a few frames of just hands, and families are often surprised by how much those mean to them.

After the session

I treat the editing of these images with particular tenderness. My work is honest and warm rather than heavily retouched — I am not trying to erase a life or smooth away every line, but to render your loved one as the people who love them see them. I will quietly attend to anything distracting, like medical tubing or harsh hospital coloring, while keeping the person fully, recognizably themselves.

I encourage families to print. Files are wonderful, but a printed photograph on the wall, an album in the hands, a small framed image that travels from house to house at the holidays — these are what the next generation will actually hold. If you would like, I can help you choose which images to print and how.

If this session is part of a larger wish to preserve a family's story, you may also find it helpful to read about recording your loved one's voice and stories alongside the photographs and about planning a multi-generation family portrait in the desert. And if you are weighing whether now is the right time at all, my piece on why legacy and end-of-life portraits matter may be a comfort.

A few questions families ask me

Is it too late if my loved one is sleeping most of the time?Not necessarily. Some of the most moving images I have made are of a sleeping parent with their children gathered close, hands held. If they are resting peacefully and the family wishes to be photographed with them, there is real beauty and comfort in that. We can talk it through honestly beforehand.

Will it be uncomfortable having a stranger there?I do my best not to feel like one. I move slowly, I follow your lead, and I am comfortable fading into the background of a room. Families often forget I am there at all — which is exactly what I am hoping for.

How quickly can you come?For families in Palm Desert, Palm Springs, Rancho Mirage, Indian Wells, La Quinta, Indio, and the surrounding desert, I keep my schedule flexible for precisely this reason. Often I can come within a day or two of your call.

What does it cost?I will always talk through this with you simply and privately, without it being a hurdle. The point right now is the people, not the paperwork.

When you're ready

There is no perfect script for this season, and you do not have to have it all figured out before you reach out. If some quiet part of you wants these photographs to exist, that is reason enough to begin the conversation.

I would consider it an honor to help your family hold onto this time. When you feel ready — and even if "ready" is a strong word for where you are — you can reach me here, and we will take the next small step together, at whatever pace feels right.