Around 3 weeks ago, a tiny article in our local newspaper caught my eye. Three transients were found dead in a local motel room. One was a 47 year old woman whose 'identity was being withheld pending notification of next of kin.' My heart missed a beat because a homeless friend of mine, who is in her late 40's, occasionally frequents that motel.

I received word today that my homeless friend and this woman are, indeed, one and the same. I do not know the circumstances surrounding her death.

Faye came into my life about 3 years ago when she rented a storage unit at my facility. The man who drove her to the facility did all the talking while she filled out the paperwork. At that time, she avoided eye contact and I wondered if perhaps she was retarded.

Come to find out, Faye was living with her abusive, bum-of-a-boyfriend (hence the downcast eyes) and beloved cats at various campgrounds in a seen-better-days motor home. As the months wore on, I became acquainted with Faye as she began opening up to me when she paid her monthly rent.

Faye began living on the streets at age 10 when she ran away from home to escape being molested by her mother's boyfriends. She eventually had 2 children of her own, one of whom drowned as a child. CPS later removed her daughter from their home when Faye's boyfriend began molesting her.

An artificial eye and a long scar across her cheek marred Faye's striking beauty, evidence of a failed suicide attempt. She was a frequent guest at the psychiatric ward of St. Peter's hospital and went through social workers like loose change. Mental illness, alcoholism, pharmaceutical drug abuse, guilt and horrific memories haunted her daily and kept her imprisoned in a cell of her own making.

Yet in spite of her tragic exterior, Faye had a heart that was pure and kind and compassionate. She lived off of a $600/month SSI disability check which she often shared with others who were also downtrodden and alone.

My heart was burdened for Faye and I tried to help her. Once, I allowed her to stay overnight at the facility (in her motor home) and had to call 911 when I discovered she had overdosed on some of her meds. It was apparent that I was ill equipped to know how to truly help someone with her mental condition and I realized that the best way I could help was to simply be her non-judgmental friend. She didn't need my censure. She needed unconditional love.

She called me nearly every week, just to check in, and say 'hello'. We would always end our conversation with an 'I love you' and we both meant it.

Faye taught me that there are no easy answers to life's tough questions. I came to understand that the fear of being alone is so powerful that it trumps making logical decisions. I witnessed the bottomless pit of despair that a mother feels when partly responsible for a despicable act against a child. I saw first hand the cruel, self-erasing effects of homelessness, poverty and drug abuse. I came to understand how extenuating circumstances can be such that there is no societal help for some people.

May you finally have found peace. I love you, my friend.