My thoughts and love to Jeannie, Lisa, and Ross
Doc always spoke highly of you with passion and love
Friendship doesn’t always follow a clear path. My relationship with Doc wasn’t always perfect, and we both knew that. There were moments of closeness and moments of distance. But even in the gaps, even when things felt strained or complicated, there was still a bond I always valued.
We had our differences—different ways of seeing the world, different approaches to life—but that never erased the connection we shared. It just meant we had to work a little harder sometimes to understand one another. And in that effort, we learned a lot—about each other, and about ourselves.
There were times we lost touch, and times we came back together. But when we did reconnect, it was like no time had passed. There was still humour. Still honesty. Still that shared sense of “you get me,” even if we hadn’t spoken in months.
DOC wasn’t always easy to read, but I never doubted their loyalty. They showed up when it counted. They remembered the things that mattered. And when I needed someone most, they were often the one who quietly appeared—with no grand gesture, just presence.
Our friendship may not have fit the usual mold, but it still mattered deeply. We didn’t always say what we meant, or handle every moment gracefully, but we tried. And when I look back, I see a connection that—with all its messiness—was honest and real.
Losing him has brought up a mix of emotions—grief, regret, gratitude. I wish we’d had more time, more clarity, more ease. But I also know we shared something worthwhile. A friendship that weathered seasons. One that taught me how to be more forgiving, more open, more human.
Today, I honour him with truth, not perfection. I remember Doc for who he was—not just the good times, but the complexity he carried, and the care that was always there, even when it was hard to see.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from knowing Doc it’s that friendship doesn’t have to be perfect to be meaningful. It can be messy and still matter. It can have silence and still hold love. I’ll carry his memory forward not with a tidy summary, but with an open heart—one that recognises how hard it is to be human, and how rare it is to be understood. I’m grateful for every chapter we shared, however imperfect, and I won’t say goodbye today as we will meet again
From Bordertown to Darwin and the inbetweens
Love always
Mr. M Loaf
