Once there was a man named Jack,
He used to ride his pushie from Holbrook to Albury and back,
Courtin' his lady, the late Marie,
“A ****** good catch!” he would say,
“And that's that.”
He loved to play the saxophone,
It's right there in his room!
He showed me some photos and put a CD on;
We sat back and listened to him croon.
Tears fell gently as memories surfaced;
His feet seemed to shuffle back into the dance of years gone by.
His breathing fell and rose,
And rose and fell again —
Then he shared how he liked to fish - several dozen at a time…
He stared back from the memories;
Hearing the ocean clap against the shore,
He was right there, now, what a catch! Sublime.
He would arrive home aplenty,
Weathered though, from the storm and sunshine galore!
Life has been full with his wife and kids in tow,
Though here now, in this small room,
photos, artefacts, and memories are the wrapping and bow,
Tying it all together when his current, present memory goes.
Pastoral reflection for my supervision about a resident in the Aged Care residence where I work.