They likely died alone, but this Tarrant County service made sure they weren’t forgotten
They were more than a case management file, pastor Robyn Michalove of First Presbyterian Church said. They had a story and a life.
And on Tuesday, they remembered their names.
More than 50 people gathered celebrate and mourn them: the 136 people experiencing homelessness who died this year in Tarrant County.
The event, at Union Gospel Mission on East Lancaster Avenue, is part of an national remembrance that occurs every year on Dec. 21 — the longest night of the year.
Lauren King, the executive director of the Tarrant County Homeless Coalition, said the organization has held the event every year since she started working there five years ago. She didn’t know many years total the coalition has been putting it on.
This year’s deaths topped last year’s 108, which was an increase over the previous year. The increase in the number of deaths may be because the coalition is better at keeping track now. Case managers, she said, were in charge of contacting the families of those who died.
“When people pass away, we want our family around us and be surrounded by love and that sort of thing,” King said. “And I just think it’s important to recognize that a lot of times people in our community pass away alone, and potentially on the street or in shelter.”
The interfaith service included a prayer for the homeless, the playing of taps, and the folding of the American flag for the dead who were veterans.
“We have a holy space like these moments to acknowledge the complexity of the human condition, the reality of human heartache, and also, and also the hope of human potential,” Michalove said.
The purpose of the service, she said, was to acknowledge that they weren’t alone.
“We come from different backgrounds, from different families, from different faith traditions, from different life experiences, yet here we all are,” Michalove said. “We have different struggles, but I would imagine we have similar core questions, similar questions to every name on this screen. Who am I? Where do I belong? What makes me worthy?”
Case workers and volunteers from across Tarrant County were among a quiet crowd that left plenty of space in the church’s pews.
Tara Hutchins of Bedford and Roger Mangum of Arlington said the memorial was more emotional than they thought it would be. Hutchins volunteers with the coalition and previously worked at the Arlington Life Shelter, where Magnum is the facilities manager. They were attending for the first time.
“Hearing the names of some of the people that we’ve actually worked with, I think, it’s hard to hear and see their faces and know that their ages range from really young to, you know, the elderly,” Hutchins said.
She knew at least five people whose names were read during at the memorial. Hutchins said she wished more people came. For Magnum, it served as a reminder of why they do what they do.
“It tugs at me, because sometimes when you’re working with the homeless all the time, you’re just doing the job,” Mangum said. “Just a step back with something like this makes you realize, OK, there are consequences. There are things that are going on, you know, when you’re sitting down talking to somebody trying to get them a blanket or some water, get them other agencies involved with that, you’re not paying attention to the at-risk part of the whole thing.”
To Michalove, worthiness wasn’t defined by accomplishment, and that belonging defines possibility.
“At this interfaith service, I join people in all traditions of affirming the dignity and worthiness of people, calling them by name and not statistics, affirming the ruach, the spirit, that breath of life that animates each soul,” she told the crowd.
So a group of three took nearly six and a half minutes to read the names as they flashed behind them on a TV screen, some with pictures, some without.
And after the bagpipes played “Amazing Grace” at the end of the memorial, they sat in the loud silence.
