Opening The Door: A Community Remembers

On December 10, 2009, people gathered together in Albuquerque, New Mexico to hold a Homeless Persons’ Memorial Vigil. Across the country, communities hold Homeless Persons’ Memorial Vigils to honor the lives of those who died while homeless. In Albuquerque, people walked single file through the city to gather together and share in songs, poetry, and memories. The HRC’s Wendy Grace Evans shares her experience of the vigil.

“I had a dream that everyone would walk in a single file line to the Annual Homeless Persons’ Memorial Day Vigil. People who are homeless are constantly standing in lines -- for food, shelter, and medical care.” Blue Vice is a Relocation Program Manager for St. Martin’s Hospitality Center in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She helped plan the 2009 Homeless Persons’ Memorial Vigil. On December 10, 2009, 153 people walked in a single file line through downtown Albuquerque in solidarity with those who experience homelessness.

The mortality rate for people who experience homelessness is three times that of people who are housed. In 120 cities across the country, annual Homeless Persons’ Memorial Day services and vigils honor lives lost as a result of exposure, poverty, violence, mental illness, substance use, and other vulnerabilities.

I sit down in one of the front rows shortly before the service begins and speak with a woman next to me who tells me that she is a member of the church. The service touches her. She has a brother in Alaska who has been homeless and faith communities have often cared for him.

“These are not statistics, these are humans whose lives matter,” offers Reverend Trey Hammond in his opening remarks at the memorial service. The church is filled with people and piano music. A baby talks and there is a slow movement of people and hushed conversations among the wooden benches. Seventy-six people are known to have died on the streets of Albuquerque in 2009. Each name is read aloud during a candlelight vigil, accompanied by poetry and music.

Hope stands side by side with loss.

A young woman comes to the podium with a photograph of a man she calls her baby. “For twenty-two years I lived with him. I buried him seven months ago. This is the man who taught me to have faith.”

Another woman rises to share her experiences living on the streets and in housing, while struggling with bipolar disorder. “I have been kicked out of churches and hassled by the police. I have been a nurse and a dual diagnosis counselor. I have suffered from delusional depression for the last six months, facing a monster in the mirror. I am only happy when I am among people who are homeless. Homeless people are the ones who make me laugh and who understand what it is like to be in hell.”

A man sings three songs in his native language—a flag song, a memorial song, and a death song. He explains that the death song allows people to pass on into the next life. The song resonates with the hope of transition as his baritone voice rises and holds the church in a sense of united purpose.

A woman with bright eyes and enthusiasm shares the names of four people she lost this year who are not listed in the program. “There was Gladys, an Indian queen, Smiley Pride who gave me a place to stay, Iva, who I always looked to for strength, and Roxanne.” She bursts unapologetically into song. The first song is familiar and brings me to tears. She sings with confidence and I cannot help but borrow from her strength of spirit. “Someone’s knockin’ on the door. Somebody’s ringin’ a bell. Do me a favor, open the door and let ‘em in…

The memorial vigil is a moment that opens hearts and doors to lost possibilities and life that continues in spite of it all. It is testimony to the strength of a community that comes together to honor those who were lost. As I turn to leave the church, the smell of hot wax fills the air and we walk out together into the cold day, with lighter hearts and a greater sense of responsibility to each other.

Publication Date: 
2009
Location: 
Rockville, MD, USA