I met Norman in November 2012 when he was transfered into our care at the west suffolk hospital stroke unit. We had an instant connection but it wasn't understood why for a while. The connection was our home town of Liverpool and our scouse accents, sense of humour and banter. However, when Norman came to the ward he had no ability to verbally communicate so I had no idea he was a scouser but we clicked and he reminded me of my dad in many ways. Norman was a broken man when I first met him and it was not just my job but my personal mission to fix him to the best of my ability both physically and mentally. Knowing he couldn't verbalise and would struggle to reply to my questions I would ofter say, "come on Norm, spit it out, im not a bloody mind reader yeh know". In times of his silence I would say, "can you be quiet for just one second, I cant hear myself think with all your chatter". He would laugh so hard he would snort and we would both cry with laughter. There were some dark days back then and we would often banter to lift the mood. I recall the day he was finally fit enough to leave the acute ward and move to his care home. It was the coldest day in February and it was snowing as I wheeled him in his chair outside with Paul, there wasn't a dry eye. I was so pleased that he had recovered enough to leave but I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him. I've no idea how he made such an impression on me in just 3 months but he did. We had a connection and I'm honoured to have net such a lovely man. I often think of you Norm on your canal boat, pint of guiness in your hand laughing and laughing.

Rest in peace. YNWA. XX