No words needed

Their watches stop, they don’t bother fixing them. Time stops…so do they. Their watches like their minds, tick, tick, tick…..stop.
He looks at his hands; wonders why the hairs are grey not jet black, wrinkles? When did I get those? His eyes close for a short while, they open to what he knows young hands, black hair a strong grip. He looks around, a house filled with young people; they see as he does through the same eyes.

Young new faces in uniforms ask him slowly what he wants to drink
Talk properly, don’t talk down to me, puzzled he looks and replies with frustration.
Girls of young ages helping these young strapping men walk, taking them to the toilet. Do they not feel ashamed? These are men, strong youthful vigorous men they don’t need a helping hand of a young girl. If they ask me I will refuse, how dare they think I can’t tell when I need to use the toilet!

Fresh air breathed in through the nose and filled the lungs of time stood still. The air smells different compared to his day not so fresh; it does not click what time it really is; as his watch has stopped. He walks with years of hard work hanging on his shoulders but feels as though he is a sprightly 18 years old with a kick in his step. When the uniform appears his face changes, confusion streaks his weathered skin. Approach calmly and do not yell they are taught especially for him.

A fake smile spreads so quickly on this child’s face, and once again talking slowly like I am foreign. She wants to help me get back to my seat inside, I want to stay outside. I have never liked the inside, I need the air to surround me and fill my heart with freshness and freedom. I scream this at the young person.
The confusion has changed places. The uniformed person’s eyebrows narrow together ears pricked up. Stand in front of them as you speak they are told. The person moves to the correct position and repeats themselves; the man grunts loudly and brushes the helping hand away. The uniform leaves fed up with his behaviour.

Why do they insist on bothering me? I need no help. My legs are strong and can take me where I want to go. I am young, fit and healthy. I am a man! How old was that girl? If I am 18 she has to be at least 14…..why is she harassing me like this? All I want is to go about my daily business in peace. Maybe she is the neighbour’s sister, the one who was sent away to boarding school in NSW? Next time I see her I will apologise for yelling at her. Poor thing probably wanted to play inside or something, I must have misunderstood her.

Their feet shuffle and hands twitch. Moving like a well choreographed dance; shuffling to the same sound of their watches. Their need for sense screams from their lungs through their eyes, mouths can’t move sentences can’t be structured; _tell me why I am here? _ Hands clutch walking frames to steady their balance when the time is told to them otherwise there is no need for a walking frame, young legs can take you anywhere.

Tell them why they are here they are told, break it to them gently about this home, talk calmly and slowly they are told. They will need support they are told. Involve the family they are told. Do not get to involved they are told. They are not your family, do not get attached they are told. Do your job well though they are told.

‘You are 88 years old’ they say calmly and slowly, as they are told. His face changes becomes his age, he breathes deeply in and lets out the 18 year old as he breathes out. Shoulders fall, stature is no longer strong and upright; it becomes slumped and the years of his life weigh heavy on them. Your family will be in soon you can talk to them; involve the family as they are told. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ The uniform asks slowly. He grunts and nods yes, his head falls into his hands as he sits and waits for answers from his family. Where did my life go? They left me here? Do these uniforms care? I have a wife who left me here? What did I do to her, it must have been terrible. I have a longing pain in my heart to see my wife, I remember her face so well when I close my eyes. Her hair so long, wrapping around my neck as we roll around in the grass before I take her back to her parent’s house. The smile that spreads across her face when I pick her up at 6pm every Saturday for a movie screening was like a piece of art work that no painter could ever capture. Her green eyes, oh how they glisten when I stare into them…
Inform the family of the care we give the residents, they are told. Let the family know if there is a decline in health, hygiene, or physical activity they are told. Inform the family that the resident may not recognize them, they are told. Give support but do not get attached they are told.
He shakes his head as she sits grey short hair? She explains who she is her voice quivers and tears build up in her eyes….. Her green eyes! It is her, oh those eyes so perfect. She has aged beautifully and with such grace she carries herself. She is mine, she is familiar.

Her hands fall over his as she looks into her husbands eyes, they are familiar those brown dishes of peace. He reaches over to her face and wipes the tears. ‘You’re here’ he mumbles in his gruff voice. They don’t talk, they hold each others hands and stare into each others eyes, that is all they have left, the only thing that is familiar, the only thing that they both recognise in each other, their eyes say it all, no words needed.

No words needed

staceyc

Joined September 2008

  • Artist
    Notes
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Artist's Description

I don’t think I have finished??!! just want some feedback on what i have so far….

This is based on one of the people i care for, i am a carer in a nursing home and this gentlman has lost that sparlke and am afraid to say given up. He is my inspiration for this.

Artwork Comments

  • Dave Legere
  • staceyc
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