Sue died!

                                                                                                             The dance has finished. Was she wearing a pretty pink dress speckled about with tiny white  flowers.   Were her stark white socks  folded neatly down around her ankles only to be tucked  nicely into soft ballad  slipper shoes. As she twirled and spun did I catch a glimpse of her hair catch the wind. Her eyes seemed closed as I watched a color rush into her tear-stained cheeks.  Is she crying, is she happy?  Don’t cry anymore Sue…Don’t cry anymore.

Yesterday Sue went on to heaven. I must paint a pretty picture to connect Sue to me for without it I only want to shake my head and keep wondering all the “Whys.”   Some place in all the ugly I and others watched her endure the past few years I must see the little girl she once was, dance. It is the only way I can smile.

Did she understand suffering? Yes. Did she make wrong choices? Yes. Did she cry? Yes. Did she laugh? Yes. Did Sue have family? Yes. Did she have friends? Yes, many. Did our friend hate? Yes. Did she ever love? Yes. Did Sue do anything right in this life? Not a whole lot, however hands down I would have to say the one right our Sue did do was let each of us into her life with an open hand. Did she let me and Missy love her? Through tears I type, yes.

When Missy and I turned to walk down the stairs today after hearing that Sue passed away yesterday morning Missy began to cry. I reached out and touched my friend and knew at that moment my God above gave me someone so unique, gentle and kind. Missy cried my tears as well as hers. Where have mine gone? Am a turning callous and cold from all the heartache we see all too often?

All Missy could say as we sat outside in the car before we drove away was “I am so tired of seeing death!” I knew the meaning to her words. It wasn’t knowing Sue died. It was what we saw the other day when we found her half-naked crawling on the floor. She and so many others we know and have known have shown us what it is like to be alive…dead.

We know that what we do on the streets is far from easy. Often we do want to step aside and let someone else have the memory. It causes you to gag and break out into a sweat. At night before I fall asleep I can see the blood, the stained/wet pants. I bury my head into clean sheets and can smell the smell of homelessness and then I drift into sleep and dream of men passed out in bushes, on sidewalks, bridges and under bridges.

Morning comes and we start all over again.

Excuse me today as I struggle to see Sue all pretty in pink. Her body is no longer swollen as she hears the music in her heart while she turns one more time to a rhythm being played softly in heaven. Dance for me too Sue.

We are going to miss her. Tomorrow we’re going to South Camp. Missy called Mike and he cried. He’ll tell the others tonight. 

 I want to put pretty flowers in front of her tent. She was the only female allowed in the camp, come to think of it, she ran the camp. The men will like the flowers. Sue would like the flowers. Dance my friend, dance!