This isn’t a Tuesdays With Morrie story, more-so a simple friendship between a ninety two year old man and a sixty one year old knucklehead.
Approximately a year ago I started working with a client Matt (not his real name) once a week in my role as a mental health support worker.
Matt was born with cerebral palsy and has been confined to a wheelchair for almost all of his sixty four years. Matt is also non-verbal and communicates mostly through his luminous blue eyes. He will also grunt if he’s not happy with something but generally he is a joy to look after and spend time with.
Matt lives in a share home with three others who are middle aged and have severe intellectual disabilities. Thanks to the dedicated staff on hand twenty four hours a day, they all have valued lives with access to lots of activities in a very comfortable space in Ballarat.
On my first visit to Matt, it coincided with one of his dad, Jack’s visit. Jack sees Matt at least once a week and afterwards will sneak in a trip to Zagames to throw $20 in a poker machine.
During that first visit we got chatting and Jack explained that he had lost his wife Norma a few years ago after sixty one years of marriage. Soon afterwards he had to hand in his licence so he couldn’t visit Norma’s grave anymore.
He also sold his home and moved into a nursing home. Occasionally a grandchild could take him out to the cemetery but it was inconsistent. He wasn’t upset by that as he understands everyone’s busy.
Jack has two other sons. One lives in Perth and the other has two businesses, one in Melbourne and the other in South Australia which makes it difficult for him to see Jack regularly.
I told him I usually have Fridays free if he would like me to pick him up and he was thankful for the offer so we gave it a go. A year on and he hasn’t got rid of me yet.
The routine is simple. Pick Jack up, throw his walker in the car, drive him alongside Norma’s grave and pay respects for a couple of minutes, drive to the Common Ground Café for a fine coffee and an opportunity to flirt with the two young baristas (him, not me), drive to IGA Northway and check his Tattslotto slips and allow Jack to piss-take with Jacinta behind the counter, go into the grocery section and buy one packet of Monte Carlo, one packet of Lemon Crisp, a packet of liquorice and a multipack of M&Ms for the nurses at the nursing home. Finally four bananas and when he insists on getting me something and the fruit looks in season, I allow him to buy me a mango or some grapes.
Jack has an extraordinary memory and sense of humour for someone of his age. I’m a lover of history and having moved to Ballarat fourteen months ago, Jack has provided some fascinating insights into the town after a lifetime as a carpenter working on domestic and commercial buildings.
His great love of course was Norma and he wells up a little when we talk about her. She passed away very suddenly and right in front of him just over four years ago.
When I asked him about the secret of their longevity he was quick to say it was the love they had though the good times and the bad.
Matt was a huge challenge, remembering there was no NDIS in those days and families were left to cope on their own. It was unconditional love that got them through and at the age of twelve Matt was placed into care in Colac before coming back to Ballarat.
Jack and Norma were always there for him and Jack has nothing other than praise for the nurses and support staff for their tireless and underpaid work.
Jack describes himself as pragmatic and someone who doesn’t suffer fools. I imagine he would have been be a shit-stirrer on a building site. Not venomous but given his large frame I doubt anyone would have taken him on.
He didn’t play footy despite his centre half forward physique, opting for squash. A non-smoker and non-drinker all his life, Jack’s fondest memories were as a child playing footy and cricket in the street and generally running amok making their own fun.
He feels the kids of recent generations have developed an enormous sense of entitlement. The discipline from parents isn’t there and kids don’t seem to appreciate what they’ve got.
Jack only hit Matt’s brothers once when they played up and that was it. He would never do it again. It worked but it took an emotional toll on Jack. He believes if he got that upset again it would be time to go.
Jack has been incredibly honest and forthright regarding his mortality. I’ve told him that I think about it regularly and I’m only sixty one, so what’s his thoughts?
“When you’re times up, it’s up” Jack reckons. He has a grave marked out for Matt next to Norma and Jack’s ashes are to go on top of Matt. Only problem is that Matt is defying all predictions around his longevity. He’s healthy and looks twenty years younger than sixty four. Jack may have to stick around in a vase at another sons for a while longer.
For now Jack believes he is trying to be as happy and as pleasant as can be without annoying as many people as possible.
In my eyes I can’t see him leaving this mortal coil in a hurry. He’s way too engaged in everything that’s going on and has a natural curiosity that invites conversation. His dream is to win Tatts for his grandchildren and I wouldn’t put it past him
Both my parents had dementia and ended up in nursing homes. Dad made it to eighty five and mum almost ninety two.
Since they passed I have spent a fair bit of time in these homes due to this current role and I’m sure if you too have been in them, there are people who are very lonely and have been left there to die.
In many cases, those who have dumped them there are simply waiting for their relative’s inevitable death in order to secure an inheritance.
Thankfully Jack isn’t one of those but if someone asked me why I would visit an old man who isn’t a relation, I honestly think that if you make the effort to chat to an elderly person stuck in a home, they gain exponential value from it as opposed to just talking to a friend you’ve known for years.
The other important aspect is how enriching it is for me. Listening to Jack open up over past year has been genuinely fun and interesting. It’s certainly no chore and I look forward to what this cheeky bugger will bring in 2025.
