‘I’m not ready to die yet’: The heartbreaking phone call Max made to his best mate

Max Benaud, 34, runs an old butcher’s shop in rural NSW that he bought with his mate, lamb farmer Wal Stranger, 30. But their paddock-to-plate dream would be interrupted by a shattering diagnosis.

MAX: Wal and I met in 2019 in Sydney working in export sales for a Japanese company that owns abattoirs. I thought “Aussie farmer” straight away: he spoke in a certain way. If I said, “Mate, it’s raining outside,” he’d say, “True”. Everything was “True” this and “True” that. I’m from the NSW Southern Highlands. Both of us were country kids working in an office; Wal knew that he needed to understand the complete supply chain from farm to finished product before diving into the family farm.

We got into the habit of having a beer every afternoon at the pub downstairs from the office. That’s where the dream came from – “Mate, you’ve got a farm and I’m a butcher: let’s make something happen” – but it took a little while.

In 2022, the old butcher’s shop in Canowindra [in central west NSW] came up for sale and we got it at auction for a reasonable price. I went to live in Canowindra while we got set up – the long-term goal was to run the business from the city – but then I met my partner, Jess, in the main street one day and decided to stay. And then, a couple of months later, I got sick. The diagnosis was B-cell acute lymphoma. Wal was the first person I called walking out of the hospital. I said, “Mate, I’ve got cancer and I’m starting treatment next week.” He said, “What do you need?”

For the first month of my treatment, while I was in hospital in Orange, Wal helped run the shop. One time, when Jess was away, Wal and his partner, Indie, even washed my clothes and brought them back to me, all folded nice.

On weekends, they’d drive for an hour to come visit me. We’d sit in the sun and talk. Wal knew I loved to have a yarn about the business and he’d bring me stuff to do. He’d ask, “What can we do to help?” At times, what most of us blokes need is a friendly ear. I’ve been in remission for two years now, but we still like a chat on a milk crate behind the shop.

We talk a lot about the business but also about our families, and we’ll check in on each other’s mental health. We wouldn’t openly call it anxiety or depression but, as we get older in life and have more roles and responsibilities, we share the burden.

We argue about food. After a 14-hour day in the shop, I’d ask him what he wanted to do about dinner. This was when we lived together for a short time. He’d say, “Do ya want baked beans on toast?” I’d say, “F--- no, I don’t want baked beans on toast! I want a steak!”

Our music tastes differ. At Christmas, I’ll be in the shop at 2am getting the orders ready, slowly waking up, and Wal will come in with a dance-banger screaming from a Bluetooth speaker like it’s a party. I’m like, “Mate, it’s the middle or the night!” I prefer a motivational podcast.

The happiest I’ve ever seen him? On his wedding day this year at Indie’s beautiful family farm in Yass; I was one of the groomsmen.

Wal is the true definition of an Aussie mate.