Rawson faced horror as a teen; Hamish helped him feel safe. Then the roles reversed

Rawson Kirkhope, 38, and Hamish Young, 38, went to school together in Launceston. A shocking domestic-violence incident cemented their bond, and they’ve been best mates ever since – supporting each other when needed.

Rawson Kirkhope (left) and Hamish Young (with therapy dog Bil). People open up to Hamish, says Rawson: “which is what I did as a kid, because he protected me and I felt safe”.Credit: Wolter Peeters

Rawson: I met Hamo in year 7 at St Patrick’s College in Launceston. He was popular and good at sports; I was more reserved. We were in the same group, but in year 9, things changed for me. I grew up on a farm outside Launi with Mum, Dad and my sister. Dad had had a car accident just after I was born, which put him in a coma and left him with a limp. He had a lot of anger. He threw Mum through walls, gave her black eyes. When I was in year 8, they split up and Mum moved to Launi. Some time later, she met a new partner. When Dad found out, he burst into our house and chased Mum into the bathroom, where I was having a shower, and shot her twice. She was lying in a pool of blood on the floor. I got PTSD from it, but I didn’t understand that till later.

‘He knew I needed distraction, so he was always thinking of things to do.’

Rawson Kirkhope

Mum survived, but I didn’t go to school for a month or two. On my first day back, I went through the gates and saw Hamish standing there, waiting for me. He took me to class and, from that moment on, he sat with me every day and made sure I was OK. He knew I needed distraction, so he was always thinking of things to do – riding bikes or going back to his house. On weekends, we’d train with these weights my grandfather gave me, pushing each other hard.

He had his own issues. At 16, he was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. At first, he didn’t say anything; he was trying to be stoic. Then he told me about it all, about how terrified and confused he’d been. He said the first time he saw all the blood in the toilet bowl he thought he was dying. I sat with him in hospital when we were 16 and he got his first infusion.

Hamo left school in year 11 and began a carpentry apprenticeship. I finished a year later and joined the navy; I served for eight years. Hamo went to Perth to work in the mines. We chatted during that time, but the connection got stretched. Then, in 2013, I left the navy and was living in Sydney and Hamo visited, and it was just like old times. He’d had enough of Perth and wanted a change. We discussed starting a gym together. He moved over in 2014, and we did our PT [personal-trainer] certificates.

We started living together, which was interesting – him with Crohn’s and me with my mental health. We drank a fair bit; we didn’t know how to deal with it properly. But we also used a lot of humour, and we’d wrap our arms around one another when we needed to. I’d take his sessions when he couldn’t do them, because losing so much blood with Crohn’s makes him exhausted.

In 2021, we launched our gym, Vrtus. We’re a good team. I get stressed – that’s my PTSD – but he’s calm and good at explaining things, whether to do with staff or the council. And he’s great with people. They open up to him, which is what I did as a kid because he protected me and I felt safe, despite everything that had happened.

Hamish: When Rawson’s dad shot his mum, everyone knew. People were like, “My god, what’s going on in his family?” Before he returned to school, a teacher came in and told the kids, “Rawson is coming in today. Try to be kind.” I didn’t really know him, but when he walked into the classroom, I put my hand up and said, “Sit over here! Come hang with me!” I started talking to him about footy and sports, and he started yapping right back at me. We had a really tight group at school, and my older brother was there, so no one gave Raws shit. I wanted to help him because I came from a broken family, and I knew what it was like.

My parents were too young to have kids. I’d watch them fight and try to stop them. They split up and Mum began seeing younger guys, scumbags, bad dudes, and it dug into me. When I was 10, they got back together, and I was over the moon. And then, at the end of year 7, they split again, and it killed me. I was quite popular and girls were around me, but I didn’t care about that. I felt better when I was being nice. I hated the idea of people getting hurt, maybe because I was hurt; I didn’t want it for anyone else and I didn’t want it for Rawson.

‘He didn’t panic, he knew not to blow things up. He knew I needed to be comforted.’

Hamish Young

It was important to distract him; I didn’t talk to him about what he’d gone through. How do you even know back then what you need to deal with it? I was the same. So we started lifting weights. His grandfather had given him a weight-training bench, and we’d go back to his house after school and see who could lift the most kilos.

At the start of year 11, I left to do an apprenticeship. It was scary working with men and operating scissor lifts. One day, I was on site and had severe gut pains. I went to the toilet and when I finished, it was just a pool of blood. I freaked out. I cleaned up and got back on the tools.

But it happened every day. I got fired from that job because I was going to the toilet all the time. I thought I was dying, but I couldn’t tell anyone. About the only person I told apart from Mum was Raws, and he was great. He was like, “What’s Crohn’s?” He didn’t panic, he knew not to blow things up. He knew I needed to be comforted. He stayed with me in the hospital for my first infusion.

Rawson left to go into the navy at 18, which was crap. He was my best mate and I was shitting blood all the time. When Raws left, I went to Fremantle and we lost touch a bit. Then, in 2013, I came to Sydney and we had a ripper weekend. I moved back and we got a flat together. We’d go out and he’d start talking about his personal issues, which he needed to: he hadn’t really worked it through. That made it easier for me to open up.

We’ve both come a long way; seeing him grow has been incredible. And we’ve got a long way to go. Sometimes I feel like we’re just getting started.

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