Dear Linda,
It's Saturday. What a week it's been.

It began in the most peculiar way, I say peculiar but really it started with a dull ache in the chest and banging headache. You see, I'd walked up to the agency and your tent was gone. The tent that had been there for nearly seven years. I didn't see you adjusting your items or riding your bike.
I'd remembered to bring your shirt, just like each week, I'd bring you items and ask if you were settled, and if you needed anything.
If you were lucid enough and you were not agitated, you would answer, and say thank you or tell me if you needed something. Mostly I was knowledgeable enough to give you your space. We all did at the agency.
You and the agency had grown into a relationship of understanding. Understanding of a woman who was different, wholly different than most people we knew. The deeply seated mental conditions you had, meant that you were what neurobiologists call 'feral'. Its a very rare condition where one cannot reside inside and does not live and conduct themselves along what Meyer's Briggs calls median norms.
You spoke in word salad, and sometimes we'd come to understand your unique language and discern your needs and feelings.
You declined services, but you resided next to the agency and never moved in those years. You'd developed a tie to the agency, a safety net. The RAs at the front desk conversed with you when you needed the restroom, socks, food or water.
One of my favorite memories were when we had the volunteers scrubbing down the facia of the agency and cleaning the windows.
You'd taken a tiny little brush and began scrubbing the sidewalk around your tent. You liked my dog Grace. It was a precious interaction. Your eyes were soft and brilliant blue that day.
Last Friday I noticed that you were doing something out of the ordinary, you were sleeping during the day, I don't think I'd ever seen you sleep. I wondered.
On Monday, I'd learned that you passed away that Sunday on Father's Day.
The agency reeled. There were tears, and emails, the RAs relayed the story of how they'd checked on you and how essential services gently handled you and your items. On Monday as I walked up, there was an empty space where you used to be.

This last week I thought about you many times, I thought about my complex experience working in social services, and I thought about the experiences and people who have taught me the very most about the human condition in these very complex times in our embattled city. I realized that you had been such an important story in these experiences. I sincerely hope in this new wonderful place of absence of suffering and in your ultimate form you are aware of the many many deep connections that had been forged around you and the lives you'd touched.

We are never, ever truly alone and I am grateful for this reminder. I am relieved your suffering is over and honored to have met you.
Yes what a week it has been.