Ted

Written by Karen Ingram - 20 February 2016

 Swinging my red string bag as I walked up the street on the way to the deli I suddenly stopped and stood, staring at the auction board and the agent in the driveway of old Ted's place. Poor, kind, lovely and funny old Ted. The last time I saw him was on my doorstep a few months back. He was a little confused and mostly concerned that his home-help person hadn't turned up to take him to the shops.

 We had a nice chat around my kitchen table, we swapped phone numbers and I also took the number of his closest relative who lived on the other side of town. Ted used to bring our bins in from the kerb and we always called out to each other on the street, sometimes stopping for a chat. I found out a lot more about him as we sat around the kitchen table that day. He was becoming more frail and really needed his walking frame but happy to be living in his own place and from time to time I'd see him waiting at the bus stop or walking home.

 I found out in the new year that Ted had a fall and he was moved to a nursing home on the other side of town. This move was the beginning of the end for Ted because very soon after he was punched in the face by another resident, suffering from dementia. Ted died.

 So it was I needed to walk through Ted's empty house, the skeleton that housed his life and memories. A rickety piano was pretty much the only piece in the house. I didn't know Ted was musical. As I walked from room to room I could see Ted shuffling himself around. I could see him opening his tin of spam in the kitchen, chopping it up and pouring his frozen vegies in a bowl and putting them in the microwave, ready for his tea. Out the back door I saw about nine overgrown vegie beds. I didn't know Ted had once been a gardener. I imagined he would've once grown and survived on his prolific crop of vegies year-round. It felt like my final visit with Ted and as I walked up the side driveway my eyes were drawn to a piece of paper flapping in the wind. It was a program from the Williamstown Light Opera Company, The Merry Widow, April 16 -19 1958. I picked it up and carried it with the real estate brochure that read 'Unlimited potential'. After I paid a brief teary tribute to Ted to the unassuming agent for whom this was just another job, I continued my walk to the deli. We are drops in the ocean.

Back home I sat at my kitchen table looking closely at the program of The Merry Widow. Finally I remembered Ted's last name as I saw it jump out from the page. M. Khadja.....Edward Canterbury. I didn't know Ted was a thespian.