I saw Charles the other day for the first time since May. For almost 15 years, Charles has been my six-foot-two, former bank robber, mentally ill, child like janitor of Union Mission, who the staff called my adopted son. When he first came to Union Mission, he was on parole so he was forced to stay. That ended over a decade ago and we were able to achieve a stable environment and a quality of life for his mentally ill mind.
For all of these years, I have been the one constant in Charles' life. Joy Pankey oversees his affairs now and she and I needed to see one another to swap some items. I phoned her as I pulled up to the Fahm Street campus and she told me that Charles was sitting outside. I have missed him as we talked at least once a day for all of those years.
The car stopped at the curb and I crawled out. Joy was standing there grinning and he sat at her feet. When he saw me he stood and walked to me. His orange shirt was filty. His faded green jeans were mostly held together with duct tape. His hair hadn't been cut in a while and was a bit wild.
"I see you've almost got that shirt broken in Charles," I said shaking my head.
He looked down at it and then up at me with a grin. I don't know if he was smiling at the joke or was glad that I was there. He walked up to me and we hugged. He gave me as much as he could which was a limp embrace though I squeezed him back tightly with a lot of love in my heart for him.
I rubbed his hair and told, "Charles, you got gray hair."
"I know, sir," he replied as he reached up with both hands and somehow grabbed one gray hair in his fingers and pulled them up. He flashed his beautiful smile as he did this.
Then he got serious and stepped back from me. Closing his eyes and placing one hand on top of his head, he said, "Sir, I was very sorry to hear about your resignation. Please tell Julie hello for me."
We're never quite certain what Charles does or doesn't know. He knew that I had left Union Mission but no idea that Julie has been long gone.
"I'll tell her Charles," I said.
Then a few members of the staff came outside and gave me hugs and Charles took this has his cue to leave. He prefers one-on-one with me rather than having others around. But he left and it was poignant.
I looked at all of the duct tape on the back side of his pants and was struck by a thought. Charles' whole life is mostly duct taped together. He has done so well for so long because we were outside of the box with him. We didn't follow our own rules and made exceptions for him. But the result was a good one. Stability and a group of people who care for him almost like the family he no longer has.
I've since learned that he has stopped referring to a lot of people as "Sir" which is what he does when he gets to know someone. Over the past year he was finally calling me "Micheal." Today I was "Sir" again.
My time as Charles' principal care giver has passed. As has my time overseeing Union Mission. For everything there is a season, right?
Today I say a prayer for Charles. That his life becomes more than duct tape. That exceptions are still made for this child-like man who will never grow up. That new caregivers love him as much as they are capable. That his mind find peace. And that one day he can go home again.
He has taught me much over these years.
And I thank him with everything inside of me.
I love you Charles.
