The mud on the path was slippery. Several times we reached for branches to stop from falling. It was a long trek down a short trail. As we navigated the path, I thought back to how Bill and I first met.
Several years ago, our church took over a derelict apartment block, and worked to fix it up. We wanted to transform it into a safe place for people trying to turn their lives around. It was to be a safe, clean, dry (no drinking) building.
Some criticized the “dry” concept as another judgmental, controlling, repressive religious thing. But that’s not what it was. I was simply responding to a plea from people struggling long and hard against alcoholism, addictions and other life-controlling problems.
There are too many places in this neighbourhood where the booze runs more freely than the plumbing. Just imagine alcoholics who desperately wants a better life. Since money is tight they are forced to live in the most available, affordable place possible – and those are not usually the best places in the neighbourhood.
Some alcoholics work through programs and attend meetings to deal with their addiction. But meetings end, and everyone goes home. If home is a rowdy rooming house or an apartment block full of drunks, it becomes harder to fight your demon. You see it, hear it and smell it all around you, 24/7.
So people came to me and asked, “Can you make some of your places dry, so we have somebody backing us up while we work at cleaning up our lives?”
I assured them I would do my best. We set up house rules in which people agreed that possession of drugs and alcohol would be grounds for eviction.
I understood their request. “Lead us not into temptation...” is not a plea based in cowardice, but simply an acknowledging our humanity. Understanding the frailty of even our best intentions.
Generally, the policy works well. But sometimes people make it harder on themselves.
Bill was one of the tenants that we were going to evict. He wasn’t a rowdy drunk, but he did drink, his buddies caused a ruckus, and he eventually decided to move before we would evict him.
There were no hard feelings, however. Bill understood what we wanted to do for people. He actually wanted the same for himself, but wasn’t quite ready to do all that was required to change.
I saw him occasionally in the neighbourhood. He stopped me once on the street to say he read my column and thought it was cool that I’m writing about life in the neighbourhood.
A little over a year ago, he stopped by the church to let us know his dad had passed away. I remember his dad sometimes gave Bill grief for messing up the good deal he had at our place. I attended the funeral and wondered what would happen to Bill.
Several months ago I saw him walking down Sargent Avenue. This time he wasn’t alone. He introduced me to his girlfriend and a newborn baby in a stroller. He was sober and proud as punch. His eyes sparkled as he held up their baby and talked about how life had changed.
And he said, “I was wondering if you could help me with something. My dad’s wish was that his body be cremated and his ashes spread by the river behind the apartment block where he lived. Do you do that kind of thing?”
Bill hadn’t always obeyed his dad. Things weren’t always great between them. But he did love his dad. And this was one final request he really wanted to respect.
So last Tuesday night we huddled close together on the banks of the Red River. We had an amazing view of the skyline, but our attention was elsewhere. It was a cool, damp night. Brisk breeze blowing across the river. A chill that exceeded the temperature.
By the light of a flashlight, I read scripture. When the time came, Bill took his dad’s ashes from the box, opened the bag and said, ““Well, Dad, this is it. Thanks for the memories.”
With those words he lifted the bag, and let loose a cloud of ashes. We prayed together. Bill had respected his dad’s wishes – not only for the ashes but, more importantly, for a change in his own life as well.
- 30
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca