A Gift Of Love
"He's kind of looking up with his rolled up little eyeballs," says Carin Brimley, mother of Adam.
In the picture, Adam is where he belongs, in his mother's arms.
"Every little jerk, every little movement, a twitch of the finger, a grimace, a smile, a yawn. A cry, a roll of his eyes," says Carin.
With these pictures, Adam is with his mom every day. Even now.
"He had just barely started to smile two days before he died. And he smiled for me," says Carin.
Carin has that picture, and all the others Lynette Johnson took that one afternoon at Children's Hospital.
I asked her: "Do you embrace them? Do you hug them? Do you kiss them?" Lynette's responded without hesitation: "Well, yeah!"
She will do all those things, this talented Seattle photographer, but she will never cry. Not in front of the parents. She stays upbeat as she shoots the pictures. The tears come later.
"There's a good friend. I always call her when I'm done," Lynette says. "And I cry. I cry a lot."
One hour is how long it took that day to create lifetime memories for Carin Brimley. It's one thing to remember how you used to kiss your son's toes, but to have that picture in your hands, can help a mother heal.
"I loved to hold him," she says.
Adam Brimley lived 16 weeks. Born with a spina bifida, and a heart defect, he never got to go home.
"When we came home after the funeral, we took down the crib because I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear it," says Carin.
Lynette Johnson's pictures give the families something they can hold onto when they must let go.
It's her gift to them. A gift of love.
"They're beautiful," says Carin. "So beautiful".
Lynette Johnson has created a foundation called Soulumination. It's to help families with seriously ill children.
For More Information: