I’ve been keeping secrets the last several months. I don’t even know where to start…except at the beginning. I met Tristian at Misha’s tent in November. He was there with his mom dropping off batteries that they had charged for them. Misha and Craig had been camping in the core for months. In parking lots and alleys, moving their tent daily to avoid bylaw scooping everything. They had makeshift trailers and bikes to haul their stuff. They had tried encampments which helped Misha sleep better but were gun-shy now after they were physically threatened by angry neighbours and Craig went to jail for defending themselves against drunken men wielding weapons. I wrote about it here. They had been asked to leave a park by the river as the city was reconstructing the bridge nearby. So they ended up in this encampment behind a three-storey walk-up and I met Tristian’s mom Cathy as she waited there in her car while Tristian delivered the battery banks and propane tanks to their tent.

Often you don’t recognize God’s angels until after you meet them. But Tristian and Cathy were gifts from above. I didn’t know his history with the drug, except that he had met Craig somehow and Craig had helped him out by delivering dope to his work. Tristian lived out of town with his partner and their son and had gotten clean when his son was born nearly 3 years ago. But the demons had returned and here he was…sticking needles in his arm to kill the pain and trying to hold it all together. Craig and he were immediate brothers, bound by a demon that demands everything and more.

On a late November morning, my husband and I sat in the oncologist’s office and watched a computer screen that showed his latest scan and all the spots of cancer showing as black. He says cancer makes him feel lonely. It was when I was picking him up late in the afternoon after his chemo treatment, when I got a text to come and get Misha from her encampment. She had been sick for several days and needed to get better. Tristian and his mom took Craig home for the night to have a shower, a decent night’s sleep and a meal. While she was home, I got her into the tub and had her take a pregnancy test. It tested positive. She had been throwing up in that tent for days and there were other symptoms. The next day--Friday, I had an $80 ticket to a fundraising gala for the Ark. It was no small change for us at this point. I drove back into London with Misha and dropped her off at the camp to spend some time with Craig while I attended the Gala. I was at my daughter’s getting ready when she called me crying and asked me to come and get her and take her home. I wanted so badly to attend this gala. I wrote about it here. I had spent the Tuesday before at City Hall fighting for their winter response funding. I had to see it through. I told her that I would pick her up afterward. I’ve regretted that decision so many times since. Every day we are faced with decisions that make us or break us in one way or another. God help us make the right ones! I took off my gown and shoes in the bathroom at the gala and replaced them with jeans and boots and walked the cold trail through the mud to the tent. Only to find that she was staying put. I cried most of the way home.