Final day: Tragic News

In memory of Chris Loxton, I offer these photos from the area where he spent his last days, and a poem by John Roff.

What I carry

For Chris Loxton, his family and his friends.

I’m glad that we could help you
with that heavy pack up bushman's nek,

and take your water, let the others share your load.

Equally glad that I could sleep beside you

in that windy cave on your last night of earthly sleep,

and smile at your big honest smile of cleverness at bringing extra noodles,
see part of your ambition as a chef,
and hear some of your great burger recipe

I wish I'd had the chance to try.

Privileged to hear you tell the group,
on your last healthy day on earth,
that what you had enjoyed the most so far
was how we helped each other.

I wish I could replay your smile and soft determination
as we made our way together to the lodge
through all those weird rocks and hills
that sing of God's huge love,
am glad that I could see you joining with the group and walking stronger.

So glad that your last full night was warm,
with people close beside who cared,
beside a fire and in a bed.

I am glad that I was privileged to be there
on that frightening last day, to help in little ways
as something vast and foreign stole your strength
but not your heart,
and glad that we could give you space
to lie down, smile, drink and talk.

I wish that I had said the things that we all need to hear
about uniqueness, courage, value, perseverance, love;
I hope you felt it in the words and arms
of us who were around you at the end of that long day,

and hope that my warm hand upon your shoulder, as the ambulance departed,

helped you shoulder that last load upon your back.

If it would turn time round 

then I would gladly lift the pack right off
your back on that first day and carry it
a thousand times back up the pass
you walked in only one direction,
but I cannot fight with God and bring you back,
just carry little sacred fragments of you,
from those final, smiling, burning days,
for us who need to
Help each other
and to hold you
through these words.

John Roff