A few years ago, my ex-husband and I bought an old home that needed fixed from the ground up. After purchasing it, we realized that there was another home in the back.
An old friend of ours was in and out of jail, battling chronic homelessness and a substance use disorder. He was a terrific carpenter and could build or fix anything.
My hope was that when he was released from jail, he’d help us in exchange for ownership of the back home. I wanted him to have a home. He could never keep one with other people. He needed his own living space so he would stop getting tossed out onto the streets.
I didn’t write or contact him when he was locked up. I thought the justice system would hold him for a while because of how much trouble he kept getting into. I thought I had time to get things in order before telling him. Nope… he was released. Not long after, he died in the park behind where I live(d).
My ex and I continued to try to work on the home(s). It was a doomed project from the start. It resulted in a divorce and never getting to say “hey” or “bye” again to someone I loved.
It wasn’t all bad though. I did break even, learned a lot about building, and got Bea’s old haunted cabinet. I also realized that property sold in NH is business between “Men.” My name was left off most of the legal paperwork.
Perfectly Human 
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