Photo by Darcie DeNeal

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It only took a few seconds for Darcie DeNeal’s life to traumatically change on September 1, 1998. That night, her 17-year-old son, Jeremy, flipped his car on a highway after missing an exit ramp. In an instant, the “sweet and sensitive wild child” she had watched grow into a young adult was gone, leaving her memories of a voice, a personality, and a person who lived life on the edge. DeNeal, a St. Louis nurse who is a single parent with an older daughter, says the first year after Jeremy’s death was a blur.

But DeNeal found comfort in 17 years worth of photos. Each picture of Jeremy unlocked a memory and gave her solace as she grieved. Slowly, the “blur” sharpened into an image of her son’s life that she would be able to carry with her forever. DeNeal’s experience has uncovered a passion and a purpose — she now takes photographs for other parents experiencing grief.

Picture purpose

A few years after Jeremy’s death, DeNeal talked with a friend who was visiting his grandmother in a hospice. Despite the woman’s delirium and the appearance-altering effects of her stroke, DeNeal offered to come and take photographs. Her friend greatly appreciated the beautiful images that she captured.

From this visit, DeNeal recognized that her photographs might help people deal with the loss of a loved one. Having been a pediatric nurse in the recovery room at Cardinal Glennon Children’s Hospital in St. Louis for 10 years before her current job as a full-time nurse at a surgery center, DeNeal knew there were times when parents may have a child live for only a few moments or that there were home-bound children whose parents might enjoy a portrait.

DeNeal had personally experienced how photos were sustenance in the grieving process, and she wanted to be sure other parents had the opportunity to remember their child even if he or she took only a single breath. DeNeal had a natural interest in photography and enjoyed taking photos of her children. When she was working on her BSN in the mid-1990s, she took an elective photography class that enhanced her photography skills and techniques.

“Getting photographs is the last thing on their minds,” says DeNeal of parents in a perinatal crisis delivering a stillborn, expecting a child with life-threatening congenital abnormalities, or watching a premature infant struggle to live. DeNeal says she initially met a lot of resistance because people couldn’t conceptualize that she could get good angles to take quality photos. With her technical skill, artistic eye, and heart of mother who has experienced the death of a child, DeNeal quickly showed the doubters that beautiful images were possible from some of the most distressing cases. She also captured camaraderie with the parents who knew that she understood what it means to have had a child die.

Images to remember

Cori and Joe Kline, parents of 3-year-old Annika, learned about DeNeal through a social worker at St. John’s Mercy Medical Center. Eighteen weeks into Cori’s pregnancy with twin girls, the couple learned the children had a condition that would not be compatible with life. During the next 15 weeks that Cori Kline carried the twins, she experienced much uncertainty not knowing how the twins would look with their prematurity and their condition. A visit with DeNeal and seeing her work put them at ease.

Cori Kline says she felt relaxed knowing DeNeal was a nurse. She knew DeNeal would be comfortable around any equipment and knew when to be there and when to leave. She also had a comfort level knowing that if the twins needed to be moved or positioned for a photo, DeNeal would be careful and respectful.

In the 33rd week of her pregnancy Cori Kline gave birth to Natasha and Naomi. She was relieved that the twins survived at the time of birth so her family was able to spend time with them. It was a precious four and a half hours for this family and a time when they allowed DeNeal to capture their daughters’ short lives.

“Thank goodness we have those pictures,” says Cori Kline, who notes they have the pictures up all over the house. “There are beautiful close-ups of their feet in the family room.”

According to Cori Kline, an additional benefit is that the pictures become conversation starters. She says it has been helpful for friends who don’t know how to talk about grief and loss. “For us, having the pictures tells people that the girls are part of our life and will be forever,” she says. When a life is so short, there aren’t many remembrances. DeNeal’s photographs have helped fill this void for the Kline family.

Although Annika was present shortly after the twins were born, her mother says she won’t remember her sisters. The pictures provide her a point of reference so she can say she was there with her sisters.

Cori Kline’s initial fear was having the photos and being afraid to look at them. Her fears quickly vanished when she saw DeNeal’s work. Besides having them displayed prominently in her home, Kline carries them in her purse. “They’re more than a fetus,” she says. “People can remember them as people. The pictures make them real. I think what DeNeal does is incredibly important and helpful. I tell everybody about her.”

An important part of the bereavement process

Maggie Loyet, RN, a certified bereavement support staff member at St. John’s Mercy Medical Center in St. Louis and a source of referrals to The Jeremy Project, agrees with Cori Kline about DeNeal’s work. “She can find the beauty in the baby and show the parents,” she says. “People are overwhelmed with the sadness, and she shows them the beauty.”