My mum, a dietician, retired on her 64th birthday. Fair to say she sacrificed a lot in her career to look after me and my two brothers, Matt and Jez. But retirement wasn’t the end for Mum, it was the start, the opportunity to live HER life. She was developing a fine talent as an artist and loved culture and travel, especially coming to visit me in Australia.
The very next day, the very first day of her retirement, she was informed she had lung cancer. She never smoked, and didn’t drink much. Talk about being dealt a cruel card. For five years she battled it admirably, and towards the end, in and out of hospices.
She even got two wigs, one for home, and a ‘going out’ wig that had flamboyant reddish tinges – she called it her Sharon Osbourne wig.
In her last three months, I returned to England. In the afternoon, I would carry her out of bed to the car and we would drive to one of the many little villages that pepper Kent, the Garden of England, and we would talk, and have ‘the talk’ that you only have with a parent who is dying. True talk: fears, memories, hopes, desires, wishes. We’d arrive at the village, and by the time I had turned the car around, she was asleep. She had made her destination. A lesson in itself. I’m crying as I write this. The journey, the experience, was always more important to her than the destination. Make the most of the moment. Be present.
I always wanted to turn this special experience into a film. But two people in a car isn’t that interesting, so when encouraged to make a film with my wife, cinematographer Jess Milne, on our honeymoon, I jumped at it. Our honeymoon took us from Sydney to Hong Kong, to London, to Dubai and then to India and so I expanded the premise of ‘that trip’ to make it global.
Made by just the two of us, with just a small camera and a GoPro, what the film lacks in production values it makes up for in heart. The Road to Vagator won many awards around the world and is a beautiful tribute to my Mum. Watch it at tenalphas.com.au/search#277855679
In her last three months, Mum was in and out of a hospice, and those angels, those palliative care nurses, showed Mum, and us, human kindness I didn’t think possible.
Cancer is a slow torture. Seeing your Mum deteriorate in front of your eyes, constantly in pain, is brutal. Modern medicine gives you ‘the hope’ but the bugger keeps fighting back, and cancer has tended to win. But the scientists are discovering breakthroughs, survival rates are increasing, and there is now real hope for a cure.
So when Sian at the Cancer Council asked me to get involved with the Stars of Wollongong, Dance for Cancer, it took me about 0.03 nanoseconds to say yes – it’s to honour those palliative care nurses and give my Mum up there, and all of you down here, a laugh at my bad dancing.
Now spare a thought for Lacinda Fisk, my amazing dance teacher. The poor girl has been tasked with turning my two left feet into twinkle toes! As an actor, I am very comfortable with the rehearsal process, but what has surprised me in dance rehearsals is the mental focus it requires and the physical toll it takes on you. I have developed a new appreciation for dancers and their art. My heartfelt thanks to Lacinda, and also to South Coast Writers Centre who have donated the Coledale Community Hall for our rehearsals.
This issue of the Flame has a Mother’s Day focus. I was blessed with a wonderful Mum, and Dad, but did I tell her how much I appreciated her, did I thank her enough for all she did for me and my brothers? I did but no way near enough. Give ya Mum a hug for me and thank her. Please donate via this link.
About the writer
Nick Bolton is a filmmaker in Bulli, and is the founder of production company TEN ALPHAS. He is the Chair of Screen Illawarra, teaches at AFTRS and Sydney Film School, and is a Creative Industries Business Advisor for NSW Government.
