Between the winter of 2017 and the spring of 2018, my 87-year-old Mom, Gloria Boches Abramson, had been housebound as her physical condition slowly deteriorated. In May of 2018, pneumonia sent her to the ICU and left her even weaker, her lungs and heart both compromised.

Despite having all of her mental faculties and sense of humor, she decided enough was enough. She rejected the hospital’s recommendation for rehab and opted instead for hospice care. She was ready and eager to die, but determined to die at home.

I had been casually photographing and video recording my Mom for the last few years in an effort to capture her life’s stories and memories. But as the end became inevitable, we also began discussing death and her final wishes. In many ways those conversations and photo sessions brought us closer. Together we traveled back in time and spent days on end in each other’s company.

When I asked Mom if I could document her final days as a way to both witness her courage and confront my own fear of losing her, she agreed. She had been an artist herself -- a painter, illustrator, and musician -- and knew that this was important to me.

In hospice care, she started to improve, and we both thought this project might go on for six months. But then suddenly, her health took a turn for the worse, and in a matter of days it was over.

Slowly at First captures my Mom’s last month on earth and all the emotions it triggered.