Lee spent much of his life giving to others: to his country, with service in Vietnam, to his family, and to the communities he served for two decades as a volunteer firefighter. It took a farm in rural New South Wales, and the family who lived there, to show him what this farm made possible: a friendship that lasted the rest of his life.
Finding a place in the drought
Lee joined Outback Links as a volunteer in 2020, and it wasn’t long before he found himself on Chris and Heather’s farm in the grip of a drought. That first visit went so well that he kept coming back, again and again, until he’d become part of the place.
Chris and Heather treated him like family from the start. “This is your house. You know where the fridge is,” they told him.
Lee was in his seventies by then, and his lungs weren’t what they used to be. None of that mattered much. He proved he could still pull his weight, though Chris says it was never really about physical help.
“When you’re in a drought, you’re so focused on the things you have to do, making sure the stock have got water, they’re not getting bogged, they’re not dying,” explains Chris.
“You’ve got weak cows who struggle to give birth, and a whole host of problems that are magnified because of the drought. It becomes quite socially isolating.
“You don’t have time to go out, or visit friends and family. Outback Links volunteers break down that isolation barrier. A volunteer like Lee gives you an opening and an outlet for the social side of life.”
Care that went both ways
The friendship worked in both directions. When Lee fell unwell during one visit, Chris drove him to hospital and stayed by his side through the night.
“Lee woke up in hospital at 2 in the morning and said, ‘What are you doing?’ And I said, ‘Well, someone has to be here with you. Keep an eye on you.’ He asked, ‘Why?’ And I answered, ‘It’s just what you do.'”
Chris kept sending photos from the farm to lift Lee’s spirits while he recovered. When Lee’s daughter built him a small diorama of the property, Chris turned up with a handful of eucalyptus leaves and red soil from Gravesend, so Lee could hold something real in his hands.
A final resting place
Lee always said city life was never meant for him. The bush, the land, this particular farm, was where he felt he belonged.
So when he began thinking about what would come after he was gone, and where his ashes should rest, there was an obvious suggestion: what about Chris and Heather’s farm?
Chris and Heather were deeply moved. Chris marked the moment by writing Lee a poem, one that speaks to the hill where his ashes now rest, a small, dry knoll shaded by two big iron trees, looking out over a view that stretches all the way to the plains. A two-tonne piece of coral limestone now sits there as a memorial, surrounded by five smaller stones, one for each of Lee’s children.
Lee passed away just before Christmas. His ashes were scattered on the farm earlier this year.
Lee’s placement on Chris and Heather’s farm started out as practical help during a drought. It became a friendship that lasted the rest of his life, and in the end, a home he chose to return to for good.
This story first appeared in the August 2026 edition of Frontier News. Want more stories like this one delivered straight to you? Subscribe to Frontier News to stay informed.
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