I met Henry (name changed) about 5 years ago. He was a spry 73 year old who was an unfortunate pedestrian struck down while crossing the road.

The majority of the time, I meet with all my clients in their homes, however Henry insisted we meet in a public place. I learned from the OT that he was embarrassed by his home as it was extremely cluttered – and he bordered on being a hoarder.

No worries, I found a local library that happened to have a lovely little room that became our weekly office for 2.5 years.

Henry was initially resistant to work with me. He was a proud man, who was insistent that he had no challenges – compounded by an injury in the brain that makes insight difficult. He agreed to work with me “to make me feel better about trying to help and to allow me to do my job”. He also insisted if he was going to do MY work, then I had to be agreeable to do HIS work – meaning he would educate and school me in things that were important to him — and that “clearly I knew nothing about. ” I agreed.

Week after week, he would bring in books, music and topics to discuss ranging from travel to electronics to opera, to nutrition and vitamins, to levitation and near death experiences. I would introduce him to memory exercise, reading strategies, work finding activities and his absolute favourite – watching and discussing Ted talks. I would take notes for him and he would bring them home and re-watch the videos while following along with my notes.

We bonded over his birthplace of Lubeck, Germany – where my grandmother was born – and he was thrilled to hear all about my trip there 2 years after I met him. We spoke of his life – his family and his memories. He talked of his life in Germany and his early memories with his twin brother. He spoke of coming to Canada and his extensive travel around the world. He shared stories about the kind people that gave him work when he arrived in Canada. While fond memories of younger years, he shared that he was estranged from his siblings (his twin brother and a sister) and didn’t give more information other than it did not bother him. His was a solitary life. I teased him about the women in his life – and he shared that there had been one, but it had not worked out and he chose to remain single – “women are too complicated” he would tell me and say he felt “bad for my husband”.

His heart was huge and every week he would bring me “gifts” – usually things that he was trying to clean out from his cluttered home. He would tell me to use the items or give them away. Each week I was always fascinated by what he would bring me – 15 miniature flashlights, 12 sticks of glue, 5 pairs of winter gloves, 10 rolls of tape, hundreds of paperclips….

I began noticing that he was regressing with his speech and communication and was concerned. With TBI – people get better or stay the same. Not regress – especially as rapidly as he was. The OT noticed too. A referral was made to a neuro psychologist and it was queried whether the accident had triggered some type of dementia or other neurological disorder and suggested further investigation and monitoring.

Unfortunately, the insurance company who was paying for rehab services felt differently and stopped funding support. I slowly used up all my sessions and bid my friend good bye – letting him know that he could reach out to me at any time. That was 2 years ago.

This past summer the OT reached out to me. The insurance company had finally realized that Henry’s injuries were more complicated and they were therefore obligated to provide him with services again (he was deemed “catastrophic” in Ontario insurance world lingo.) She asked me to get reinvolved.

She warned me Henry had deteriorated significantly and was no longer living on his own. I went to go see him in the long term care facility and he greeted me as a someone who was greeting a long lost friend. I was touched. And completely devastated to see that his progressive disease had robbed him of his speech and some of his comprehension. No longer were we able to banter back and forth, instead he struggled to communicate with single words, gestures, and facial expressions. Writing messages to him helps increase his level of comprehension so we started working together again with a notebook and lots of trial and error – much like playing charades.

We (the rehab team) decided that we would request the insurance company to fund the purchase of an iPad so that I could get some therapy related apps, and he could have some entertainment – mainly he could listen to music – in particular his beloved opera. The insurance company agreed, so today I went in to visit Henry and brought him the new iPad. His rehab support worker (RSW) was there too (and would help set it up).

Henry was overjoyed with the purchase. I made it clear that it was purchased with the insurance funds – but it was his own. He was thrilled to have something of his own. He said ” I cannot believe it” -which is one of the longest phrases I’ve hear him say. He grinned from ear to ear, clapped his hands and repeated “thank you”.

As Henry and I conversed – the RSW began setting up the iPad. The RSW decided that it would be wise to use as a password Henry’s date of birth. I asked Henry if he knew it and he said no. So, I looked in my file, wrote it down and showed it to him – to see if he recognized it. At first he was confused but after few repetitions he understood that it was his date of birth.

Almost in slow motion, I saw his face crumple and he started to cry. I quickly asked him what was wrong, and he began sobbing, and sobbing and sobbing. I went to him, rubbed his back and wrote questions asking what was going on. He continued sobbing but in between mumbled words and I was able to determine he was talking about his twin brother, and missing his family. As he continued sobbing, I reached out to hug him and he then clung to me and cried like a baby. I knew enough from the past to know that he had been estranged from his family butI did not know any recent history. I just held him and let him cry and cry – probably like he never had before – uttering words in between sobs such as “twin”, “sister”, “miss”, “no family”, “mother” and “father, “gone” . I got gist. It was heartbreaking.

After I left I called the OT to try to get some recent background. She informed me that Henry’s twin had passed away last year – and Henry had simply shrugged when he heard about it; it didn’t seem to bother him. She then said, that while going through his stuff for the upcoming legal case about the accident, Henry’s lawyer had come across the contact info for Henry’s sister. Long story, but he was able to reach Henry’s niece who informed him that Henry’s sister had recently passed away. Last week Henry was given the news and broke down then too.

Years of estrangement. Years of regret. All the time I knew Henry he was always so casual about the estrangement. He never shared the details, although it seemed that it was more a function of distance, disinterest and independence rather than big rift. He spoke kindly of his siblings, but it just seemed like they were not a big priority to him. He was an independent man who didn’t need anyone.

Until today. When the years of emotions came sweeping through him and he wept like he probably has never wept before. I’m not sure exactly what he was feeling, but I can only imagine that with the flood of emotions he demonstrated – he was feeling great loss. We can move away, we can build our lives in other places, with other people, we can go on for years without needing to return home. But home is in us. Our roots are always there and as far away as we can go – we are always drawn back to where we all started. In the end, family is all we have.

I hung up the phone with the OT and thought of my own family: my family of origin, my family of procreation, and my extended family – and thought about how they all make up the fibers of who I am. How each one has had a role and a contribution, and in the end, they are all that matters. Rifts, conflicts, estrangements, “justified” distance, difference of opinions – they don’t matter in the end. They only shortchange you and your posterity from building lasting relationships that should be eternal in nature.

I pray that as the years pass, that we will just keep adding to our family, and any conflict, misunderstanding, annoyance, distance, or challenge will be overshadowed by memories and experiences and a desire for a future together for generations to come.

I won’t every forget Henry’s deep sadness at the family he had lost, but I’m glad to be a little piece of his family now.