Vigil for four men

Yesterday I stood with Women In Black for the first time.  The vigil honored four men who died outside over the past month.  Standing still in honor of lives lost was a moving experience for me. It gave me the quiet time to reflect on the names, ages and places of their deaths.  Two of the men died in neighborhoods near mine.  Stanley Sorgenson (I think that is his name, I've misplaced my paper flyer)  died near a small store I visited the day before.  He died from apparent beating. He has a scandinavian name.  I am half Finnish.  Standing there I thought of my Uncle Milt who spent most of his life moving from one town to the next homeless and unemployable.  He led a solitary life, but called me every now and then.  He died alone at the State Veterans Hospital without any family contact.  I thought of the man with a Finnish name whose death was honored by the Women In Black last spring and whose vigil I missed.  I also thought of my Uncle Arvid that died a week ago who grew up with Milt.  How different their lives unfolded.  Uncle Arvid died in the house that his parents built, where he raised his sons and spent 50 years with with his wife.  He never lived anywhere but Astoria, Oregon.  Milt died alone, no home, no family close to him.  I hope he had a community in the hospital, but I know he didn't want to be there.   

When not lost in my thoughts I noticed that people were truly curious about the 10 or so women standing in line dressed in black.  Some were moved to thank us.  I especially was touched by the woman who gave us each a long stemmed white rose and thanked me for being there.  Silence is powerful when it is shared.