Homeless Grief

53% of the homeless in the USA live here in California.
Trauma is a huge part of their story.

After a naloxone training at Casa Milagrosa, a non-profit agency serving people experiencing homelessness in Los Angeles, I hand out the kits.
They’ve seen the slide of my beautiful boy and heard the reason I do this …
“If the person who was with Luke that night was carrying Naloxone and knew what to do ….”
It’s my closing line.

Today 3 gentlemen shared their harrowing stories of catastrophic bereavement that broke their souls and led them to live outside the norm of society.

But one stands out above them all.
Hands clasped around mine as I crouch at the foot of his chair, he recounts his chilling story.
Bereft and isolated, failed by inadequate systems, he abandoned his job and home and just walked…

“I get it, I truly get it”
He raises his eyes to meet mine and he sees that I do.

A single tear falling, wipes the filth from his face in a solitary streak.
An image forever etched on my heart.

Reaching for hope in my gaze he dares to ask… “Do you know of a good grief group?”

And so, now, we provide just that.
A grief group for Casa Milagrosa, because it turns out… he was far from alone.

Adam bakes the banana muffins and Thea and I rock in with my grief tree, singing bowl, hand cut leaves from Italian watercolor paper that Sandy lovingly crafts and heart shaped crystals donated by a fancy shop in Santa Monica which I press into their palms as we ‘say their names’ and speak of those we grieve.

I hear Luke slap the back of his hand on his palm…
“That’s some pure fucking lukelove, Mum!”