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Author: Collaborator - Printique by Adorama
June is National Alzheimer’s Awareness Month, a time to recognize the millions of families affected by Alzheimer’s disease and other forms of dementia. For many, the experience is not only about memory loss, but about finding new ways to stay connected to the people and stories that matter most. In the midst of change, photographs can become something powerful, offering comfort, sparking recognition, and preserving the threads of family history when words and memory are no longer enough.
Here is professional photographer, Jen Mulowney’s personal story.
This year, I wanted to create something deeply personal. Not just a gift, but something meaningful. Something that could hold memory, connection, and love in a way that feels lasting. This story is about my cousin Bonnie.

After World War II, my grandparents and their siblings settled in Brooklyn. They ran the Bonacore Bakery and lived together in a brownstone, raising their families on different floors under the same roof. They shared everything, even a car. Bonnie and my mother were raised more like sisters than cousins.

Over time, life shifted. Families grew, people moved, and we all spread out in different directions. But Bonnie remained the constant. She was the connector, the one who understood how everyone was related and took great pride in sharing and explaining our family history. She carried the stories, the relationships, the threads that tied us all together. She hosted amazing family gatherings and pool parties where, more than once, my mom ended up getting thrown into the pool!
Bonnie has always been more than a cousin to me. She has been a steady presence in my life, the kind of person who shows up without being asked, always knows what to say, who quietly takes care of everyone around her, and who somehow makes you feel like you are her favorite, although I am convinced it’s me!
Recently, Bonnie lost her husband after 62 years of marriage. As I mentioned, they had been together since she was just 16 years old.

And now, she is also navigating life with dementia. Over the past few months, I’ve been spending time with her on weekends. We go for walks, we sit together, and we look through photographs. A huge part of how we connect now is through those images.

Her home is filled with frames of everyone she loves. Bonnie has saved every school photo, Christmas card or thank you card she’s ever received, reminders of a very full and connected life! Sometimes she recognizes everyone in the photographs. Sometimes she doesn’t.But the feeling is still there.
There is comfort in them. Connection. A sense of something familiar, even when memory isn’t.
She was always the one who could look at a photograph and tell you exactly who everyone was, how they were connected, and where that moment fit into the larger story of our family.

Those stories didn’t live in files or folders. They lived in albums and frames you could hold in your hands.And now, sitting beside her and looking through those same images together, I’m beginning to understand just how important that is.
In a short time, Bonnie will be moving to Florida and beginning a new chapter. The space around her will change, and with it, the way she lives with these memories. That’s what led me to create something she could carry with her.
For her 82nd birthday in March, we gathered as a family to celebrate her. I photographed her surrounded by the people who love her most.

I made a photo book, something simple and intentional.I wrote the names alongside each image, small reminders to help her connect the faces to the people who love her.
I chose a smaller size on purpose. Not because the moments are small, but because I wanted it to be something she could hold in her hands, something she could carry from room to room, something that could move with her into this next chapter of her life.

The way Bonnie exists in the lives of everyone around her is magical. She has a way of making people feel seen and cared for, a magnetic warmth that comes from her heart.
Recently, we were out for a walk when we passed a neighbor and his grandson riding their bikes. The little boy, maybe seven years old, stopped, got off his bike, and ran over to hug her.
It was so simple, and yet, it said everything. That is who she is and that is what I want this photo book to hold.
In the end, photographs are not just images. They are connection, memories and they are something we can return to when words fall short. And sometimes, they become something even more. They become something we can hold, carry and help us find our way back to the people we love.
Over 7 million Americans are currently living with Alzheimer’s/Dementia. If you would like more information you can call the Alzheimer’s Association toll free at 1-800-272-3900 or visit their website at alz.org. They offer Alzheimer care and support and are offer a free 24/7 helpline for consultations and support group information.