I grew up in Christchurch in New Zealand with my parents, they’d lived and grown up there themselves and were as Kiwi as they come. But my dad got offered a job though in Sydney when I was 7 and we moved leaving behind all of our relatives, grandparents and friends.
When I was 15 my dads parents passed away, and the saddest thing was that I barley had the chance to get to know them and all the things from their lives that made them the wonderful people they were. Yes New Zealand is just 3 hours over the ditch, but money was tight and we never got to go home and see them as often as we would’ve wanted.
I remember one of my friends complaining that she had to go to a family dinner, and it just confused me. That sounds like the best thing ever? Being surrounded by funny people who just want to make sure you’re okay and ask about the little things you’re doing in life? Why would you not enjoy that?
A few years ago, my mum got a job at a nursing home, she said all of the people there reminded her of her parents still in New Zealand, so lovely and helpful. Mum would come home with stories about the little old lady who feeds the cockatoos, the inseparable couple who hold hands all the time even when they’re eating and the lady who boasts that she told her husband she was a virgin when they met even though she claims she had 4 abortions before hand.
These vibrant people all have stories and they all want to tell them, because by looking at them a lot of the secrets aren’t what you would expect. They have lived full lives and know about life and grievances.
So my assignment is focusing on those with wisdom, and experience, and stories to tell as they’re are still full of life despite being copped up in a nursing home.
This is one of the cliche’s which needs to be shown, because what’s more important than life?