on the streets of new york city

yesterday i took a different route home from work. traffic was awful everywhere and so when i came to halt by a subway station in washington heights i had a moment to really contemplate the terribly sad situation of the man i saw sleeping on the sidewalk, just a few feet away from the steps leading down to the train. living in this big city, i, of course, see lots of homeless people but in this particular case i just felt as if i was personally affected. i pulled my car out of traffic and into the bus stop, for i remembered that i had a sandwich and soda in my bag. i was hungry but this seemed like a so much better place for my food to go. i walked up to where he was sleeping and placed the items by his head. he was laying in the fetal position facing the wall and he had a rough, felt blanket pulled over his face. all i could see was the seemingly familiar jacket and woolen hat he was wearing.

i returned to the car and sat there, looking at him, overcome with emotion. i watched how people walked by, not even noticing him. it was as if he were invisible. when tears began to well up, i went into my wallet, pulled out the biggest bill i had (sadly, only $10), and went back to put the money under the sandwich. I usually don't give money to the homeless....i give food ... and then money to charity organizations on a semi-regular basis instead.

when i again returned to the warmth of my car - it was not only cold out but the air was also ripe with bone-chilling march rain - i tried to understand why i was being so unusually emotional. to clarify, i am very compassionate about people's suffering but this scenario i see every day and i have built some sort of thicker skin for it, or so i thought.

then, it occurred to me that the man sleeping on the sidewalk reminded me a little of J. and maybe, the reason i was so drawn to him, and then so touched by it once i got close, was because it _was_ J. He could have certainly fit the description. It was a rather small man, the way he slept, was the way J used to sleep, the choice of location (no shelter, no nook, just no thought wasted on it at all,...no care for himself). ... i don't know... but the thought that it could have been him has been haunting me.

i feel so terrible for him. ... i hope it wasn't him! the columbia degree for nothing, the past 4 years (of me trying to stick by him)...for nothing. his daughter...without her dad... his mother without her son....
i know that some things can't be changed. if it is his addiction that keeps him on the streets, then maybe he has a chance for recovery (although, last i heard, he is using meth...and that is just as bad as heroin). :/
but, if it is his disorder that's making him non-functional, and the addiction is just a symptom...or an unfortunate side-effect, due to bad decision making at some original point...wherever it is that addiction begins... then this may be his end and the thought of this is terrifying. even if i never see him again, i don't want him to have to live out this fate. ...

i want him to be o.k. - i want him to be happy. rebuild his life, find peace...

i pray.