The reason Robert said he became homeless resonated with me. My encounter with him has haunted me all the more as the early morning fog begins to freeze and the nights grow longer. We met Robert while the summer sun still baked the sidewalks of Downtown Atlanta. Terence spotted Robert walking alone on the side of the road. We pulled the side of the road and asked if we could interview him. We drove a few miles and set up under an overpass. Robert was openly skeptical and suspicious of our motives. He told us he had been taken advantage of before. He made it clear he didn’t trust us. He opened up to us about some of what he’d been through once we got the camera rolling.
Robert’s story struck a familiar tune as it started out. He was elderly, 72 years old. He had been homeless for eight months at the time we met him. He told us about how hard it was to find food every day and how much he hates the mosquitoes biting him him day and night. He told us about he sleeps under a bridge every night and seldom finds someone who will let him take a shower. I’ve heard about people going through similar experiences dozens of times. Robert told us his mother died when he was young and Robert’s father struggled to take care of Robert and his five siblings on his own. When he became a teenager Robert began to work in a funeral home his godmother owned. He did this up until he enlisted in the Army at the age of 18. He was deployed to West Germany immediately after he was out of basic. The war in Vietnam was only escalating and the US felt it was fighting communism at every turn. Robert was thankful he wasn’t deployed to Vietnam. He served his time, and was honorably discharged at the age of 20. He came back home, went to mortician school, and began to work at the funeral home again. He told us the work started to wear on him psychologically, so after 15 years he took a break. He said he just drifted away and began to travel state to state. There was a big gap between this point in Robert’s life and the present day. I wasn’t very clear on how long he traveled, or if he went back to work at the funeral home when he finished his travels, or if he went on to do something else entirely. He told us he had a son and grand kids (who aren’t aware he’s homeless). Robert didn’t say much else about the time between the day he left his job, and the day he became homeless.
Veterans are much more likely to experience homelessness than civilians are. The statistics surrounding veteran homelessness can be overwhelming. Veterans make up about a quarter of the homeless population. Nearly half of homeless veterans are over the age of 45 and served during the Vietnam era. Over three fourths of homeless veterans suffer from alcohol abuse, substance abuse, or mental health issues. There are many reasons behind the much higher chance of a veteran becoming homeless. Some see combat overseas and come home to battle with PTSD. Others may have become dependent on alcohol or other substances. For many though, it’s the isolation of reintegration into civilian life. So many veterans come home to a life of loneliness. It takes more than a job and mental stability to keep veterans off the street. They need friends and people to do life with. If you are passionate about helping out veterans, homeless or not, I urge you to contact your local VA facility, or other organizations serving vets in your community, to see how you can volunteer. As for Robert, I’m sure he experienced loneliness as well when he came home. It also seems he found love, or at least companionship.
Around eight months prior to us meeting Robert, he told us he had been in a relationship with a woman. He didn’t speak much into the relationship, he just said things went wrong. The relationship ended for whatever reason. He told us that when it happened he had just wanted to disappear. So he did disappear. Sometimes we anchor ourselves to what we love, and when whatever it is has gone, we drift away. We drift from those around us. We drift from ourselves. I wasn’t clear on whether or not Robert. had intentionally become homeless. I don’t know if he just walked out of his door one day and decided to sleep under a bridge, or if his withdrawal from life left him with no choice but economic impoverishment.
We humans long to be loved. We are desperate for community. Something within each of us aches and yearns for belonging. We need each other, but we often fail to fill those needs. We let each other down. We abuse one another. We become victim and perpetrator. With each hurt and breach of trust our want for safety grows. Unfortunately, we almost always seek that safety in isolating ourselves. We build up walls and enter these lonely places. I think the feeling loneliness at some point in life is the one thing humans unanimously experience. Even as Jesus hung on the Cross He cried out to His Father asking why He had been forsaken. So when Robert said he had just wanted to disappear, I felt that. I feel myself wishing I could disappear more often than not. It’s ironic loneliness can form somewhat of a bond between two strangers. I don’t know if I have anything else in common with him, but I know we’ve both felt alone. I don’t know if I have anything else in common with you, but I know at some point or another, we’ve both felt alone. I can’t help but wonder how honest he’d been with how he felt. If he told anyone he wanted to just disappear. If I’m honest, I don’t tell anyone either. I’ve not even wanted to face it myself. It’s hard to muster up the courage to tell your friends you’ve been dreaming of different cities. That the days have turned into a perpetual tumble of what feels like nothing more than wasted time. Sometimes you wish you could disappear. Sometimes you just want to melt into the shadows under the overpass.
Robert began to look like a mirror. The more I listened to his story, the more I saw myself. I saw my frustrations and bitterness– my own anger and disappointments.. I saw my own wanting of a better life in his eyes. Maybe I’m looking too much into the chance encounter with a man who’s lived three times as many years as I have. I think Henri Nouwen was right when he said: “The mystery of one man is too immense and too profound to be explained by another man.” But I also believe the mysteries of another can help reveal some of the mystery we’ve found locked away within ourselves. It’s in those lonely places we often find another like us, and in another is often when we find some missing part of ourselves. In Robert I could see my own dreams. I saw my hopes of feeling wanted, my own searching, my own poverty. The walls he had around himself seemed all too familiar. I could hear the exhaustion in his breathing. I could see the ache in his bones as he walked.
Robert is sick. He has to take seven pills a day to function. His time is running out. He won’t last much longer on the streets. Robert went on to tell us he didn’t think he would die homeless. He said he had some friends that could help him out if he wanted– doctors, lawyers, family members– he said he’d be able to make it off the streets before it got cold out. I believe Robert will get off the streets, if he hasn’t already. I believe he’ll call his son again. I believe he’ll be present again. I believe the wanting his eyes will fade to fulfillment and belonging. I believe the same about myself.