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Sibylle Fendt’s intimate photographs of terminally ill patients and their carers were inspired by the death of her own husband – a period in which she experienced pain, tenderness and love
Closeness and compassion … Corinna and Rainer, Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg, September 15, 2024Thu 29 Jan 2026 08.00 CET
Anita and Shalom, 30 January 2024
Renowned documentary photographer Sibylle Fendt has made a series of moving portraits of individuals in the final stage of life, spending their remaining time at home, surrounded by family and friends. With death still considered a social taboo, Fendt’s body of work creates a space for openness, closeness and compassion. Her photographs offer intimate insights into the last moments of life – moments in which pain, tenderness and love are inseparably intertwined. Sybille Fendt’s Before the time comes is available to purchase from Kehrer Verlag
Christine Koberg with her cat Sunny, 16 October 2024
Sibylle Fendt: ‘In May 2024, after a long illness, my husband Hendrik passed away at home with his family by his side. After an odyssey of hospital visits, and unsuccessful treatments, we reached a point when we realised it was ending. In a way, the moment we made the decision to stay at home brought relief, even though we knew what lay ahead of us. We were able to accompany his departure in our beloved home. I was with him when he died, and we said goodbye in an environment in which we felt safe despite the indescribable grief’
Chris in her favourite armchair, 20 October 2024
Chris: ‘When the doctor at the hospital said: “There’s nothing more I can do for you,” we thought it was over, but it all turned out quite different. We came home to a much calmer place. I didn’t have to die – not immediately. I could go on living for a moment’
Mr Köhler and his wife in their apartment, Berlin-Wilmersdorf, 23 September, 2024
Köhler: ‘I would like those around me to realise that my cancer frightens me no end. And that the difference is that they will probably live on, live longer, be able to organise their lives differently. My time here is very, very limited. And my options are slipping away. And I realise that every day. The shittier life gets, the more attached I become to it’
Crista and her husband, 21 September 2024
Sibylle Fendt: ‘Christa cares for her husband at home with incredible devotion. This phase of her life has been the source of many positive things, she feels. She often sings old folk songs to her husband, the words of which she recalls from childhood, and is amazed how often they reference the theme of saying farewell’
Crista, September 2024
‘Every night, Christa sleeps on a folded-down mattress at her husband’s feet. She keeps emphasising how important it is for me to take these photos, insisting that the silence surrounding age and death needs to end. She longs for a society in which a willingness to help and care for others is valued much more highly’
Corinna and Rainer, Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg, 15 September, 2024
‘The last thing Hendrick said to us – or that I remember – was: “Don’t worry about it.” It sounded like: “Don’t worry. I’ll be better tomorrow.” And not like: “Don’t worry about it. It’s OK that I’m dying.” We sat there together for a long time, and it was nice to be together – even if it was very sad. Sad to see the children saying goodbye to their father and to listen to Dirk telling anecdotes from his decades of friendship with Hendrik’
Mr. Schiller and his wife, Berlin, April 10, 2025
Mrs Schiller: ‘At some point, I just want to be able to look back on this time and say: “We did a good job.” And that, actually, we maybe even had a good time’
Mr Schiller and his daughter, Berlin, 10 April, 2025
Schiller’s daughter: ‘For me, this has a lot to do with giving back. The intergenerational contract is not a one-way street for me. My papa was always there for me. And my papa looked after me, cared for me and comforted me. Whenever I felt unwell. It’s a given for me that I can now repay him with all my love and the knowledge I have acquired. It’s simply a tribute to him as a person. Now it is time for you to get something back’
Günther Stanzl, 84, Berlin-Wilmersdorf, 17 September, 2024
Günther Stanzl: ‘Now all I am waiting for is the ticket for my hearse. That’s my dark sense of humour. It’s more a sign of weakness than strength. You can pretend you are not afraid, but of course you are. You’re scared and why shouldn’t you be? We only have one life’
Mr Oberländer and his wife in their apartment, Berlin-Wilmersdorf, 23 September, 2024
Fendt: ‘Hendrik suddenly stopped breathing. As if out of nowhere. A sudden swallow or clearing of the throat and everything was silent. I panicked and didn’t know what was happening or what I should do. At the same time, I was glad that there was no last gasp, that it was such a peaceful end. That we had coped so well’
Mr Oberländer Berlin-Wilmersdorf, 23 September, 2024
Fendt: ‘I don’t understand dying. I cant grasp it. Life, then suddenly death. I can’t understand it at all. Was Hendrik aware it was happening? Did he realise he was dying? Or was he on a nice trip towards the end – one that he’s maybe still on now? Because with his last breath time stretches into infinity?’Explore more on these topics
