Dad died around midnight on March 16. Twelve hours later I was carrying boxes containing the last of his effects from his stay in assisted living. Those effects included towels, washcloths, a brand new, unused comforter, and assorted hospice care items that assisted living didn’t want but I couldn’t bear to throw away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was a dry and bright afternoon as I approached my car parked alongside a Thai restaurant. I looked toward the restaurant’s back parking lot and noticed in a far corner a homeless person hunched over some type of jury-rigged piece of portable luggage. I could not see the person’s face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A great notion occurred. They seem to manifest a lot when it comes to helping homeless people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I placed the boxes in the car, dug through one, and fished out a package of sterile wipes. I walked toward the homeless person and called out, \u201cHey, I think I have something you might be able to use.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The person raised their head. It was a woman in her 30s, red hair, black eye shadow, black lipstick, big smile. I walked closer and recognized her from the neighborhood. I had never seen her addled. She was always alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy Dad just passed away in assisted living\u201d I said, \u201cand I have something you might be able to use, sterile wipes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh that would be great,\u201d she said. \u201cThey come in handy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I handed over the package and saw among her possessions a book about beginning a blog, doubtless published from blogging’s 2005-08 heyday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you going to start blogging?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI found it, started reading, and thought I might start.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cPeople seem to prefer podcasts these days.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey seem too complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI’m really sorry about your dad.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt’s a relief. He was in hospice and struggling. He’s at rest now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThank you for helping me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I said goodbye and returned to assisted living to fetch the last load, a laundry hamper full of clean stuff ready for Goodwill. When I approached the car, the homeless woman had moved closer to the restaurant and was sorting her gear, prepping for transportation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHey,\u201d I said, \u201ccould you use a comforter, brand new? My Dad never used it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSure,\u201d she said, \u201call my bedding got stolen last night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I set down the hamper and produced the comforter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThank you,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow about a towel and washcloth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was rolling. I started feeling giddy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat would be great,\u201d she said. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd how about another packages of sterile wipes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was then I noticed she had incredibly large eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat’s your name?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAmber.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI’m Matt.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As Amber started packing up Dad’s final gifts, I went to my car and retrieved a copy of the Old Crow Book Club<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI wrote this book about the homeless in the neighborhood,\u201d I said. \u201cYou might find it interesting.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She took it from me and said, \u201cOh, I had this and started reading it but it was stolen. Thank you, I wanted to finish it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou take care,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI will, and again, I’m sorry about your dad.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe would have loved knowing you got some of his things.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Dad died around midnight on March 16. Twelve hours later I was carrying boxes containing the last of his effects from his stay in assisted living. Those effects included towels, washcloths, a brand new, unused comforter, and assorted hospice care items that assisted living didn’t want but I couldn’t bear to throw away. It was […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":9364,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9363","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-meditations","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9363","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9363"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9363\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9366,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9363\/revisions\/9366"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9364"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9363"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9363"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9363"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}