A Father, a Son, a Grandfather, a Brother, a Friend…and Chronically Homeless
Author: N. Lunsford
Being asked often “Who is Steven?” or getting messages addressed to “ Steven”. I thought it was time to tell Steve’s story and the story that drives Steven’s Home.
It was about this time of year, two years ago, when everything changed for Steve….let’s do a little history about the person, the human being, who created “all this.”
Steve and I met at a bonfire in Wadsworth Il in 1984. I was 16 years old, he was 20. We got close fast and his quiet, laid back demeanor complimented my hyper, fast talking, loud self. Our first son was born in 1985, our second son came in 1990. Steve became dad to another son in 1993 as he started a new family. Both of our families received each of us as one of their own.
In the early 7 or 8 years, Steve was a very good dad to our 2 sons. He instilled in them a love for music and especially our yearly trip to the Chicago Blues Fest. He shared with the kids his love of the outdoors, biking through the woods or long miles from town to town. He took them fishing and would camp or build things with them. Steve was a commercial / residential electrician. He was good at his trade. He made a solid income that allowed for extras like buying dirt bikes, weekends at Wisconsin Dells or days at Six Flags. I regret that his 3rd son did not see this father much in his life, if at all. By the time he was born, Steve was well into his own destruction.
Steve was raised by two amazing parents. His mom was loving and giving and contributed to the family income with a full time job. She was a hands on grandma to our kids and thoughtfully always bought treats for them, or a surprise lunch out “on her”. She was also a generational, daily active-in-addiction, alcoholic. His dad is loving, and while quiet, reserved, and a bit shy, he worked hard to provide for his family. Steve inherited his dad’s demeanor and his dry, but funny, sense of humor. He also inherited his mom’s addiction to alcohol. We do not choose addiction, addiction chooses us. This, understandably, caused much friction and contention between Steve and his father.
Over the course of our 8 years together, Steve and I would break up for months, then get back together and try again. I was not innocent by any stretch of the word. I partied, dabbled with and later dealt with, cocaine addiction. Steve dabbled with sobriety. He could be sober and work a program for a year, or 2, but the demons always won in the end. In about 1990, I had stopped drinking and partying. Steve desperately tried to join me on the sober band wagon, but after months of sobriety came home drunk “from a meeting.” For the first time, he swore and yelled at our then 5 year old son. That was it. I calmly and nicely packed his things and was done.
Steve and I always remained close, good friends. Bailing each other out of whatever jam we were in. Even in our arguments or times of anger, neither would let someone else hurt the other in any way. A few times, the police or his current girlfriend would call me, asking me to come get him because he was “out of control.” Steve spent more nights on my couch than I could ever count. He and his girlfriends would come to all of our family parties for the kids and for Christmas breakfast, with his girlfriend’s kids and our kids opening presents together, and my boyfriend making omelets for everyone. We did accomplish setting an example for our kids who needed to see we could still love and care about each other.
At some point Steve seemed to fully give up the fight for sobriety. He just gave in. This became a problem at work, so soon, his promising career of being an electrician, was gone. No job, means no home. He lived in a tent for a few years in Illinois, then went to his cousin’s home in Texas, in about 2007 (that year may be incorrect.) Living with his cousin quickly did not work out, and he asked his cousin to drop him off in Conroe Texas. Conroe was Steve’s hometown for about 15 years. He was outside, in the woods and homeless.
Steve had an outreach worker who had credentials to work with mental illness and the homeless. This woman really cared about him and was a solid support for him. She helped pay for his needs from her own pocket and was reliable for him and held him accountable. She now is a solid support and means of professional direction and advice for Steven’s Home and I am eternally grateful for all of her help and support.
Over those years he called me about twice a year to chat about our kids and life. I could hear the pride and smile in his voice when I told him what his sons were up to and accomplishing. During these talks he told me how his tent had been bulldozed by the city without any notice. How his ID, Social Security card, clothes, camp gear and other important items and papers were gone. In essence, when that bulldozer came, it took and destroyed what little he had left. Steve rebuilt that life elsewhere in the Conroe woods, and began again, but now he had no proof of who he was, and no documents to obtain a new ID.
In October 2021, Steve’s sister called to say that he had called and said he had cancer. He thought it was lung cancer. I quickly called the number that he had used to call her and was on the phone with a man named Tommy. Tommy was also homeless, but owned a car. Steve and Tommy were good friends and looked out for each other. I spoke with Steve that day and told him that “we cannot have cancer lying on a sidewalk” . I began ordering meds and supplies via the Walmart app and Tommy was able to pick it up and deliver it to Steve.
It was immediately apparent buying supplies would not be enough. Steve and I talked daily and he gave me medical and financial POA. I called Social Security to try to get benefits - the administration no longer recognized his social security number because he had been off the grid for decades. I used tax papers from 1987 to prove that Steve was a real person. I worked with 2 Texas social workers via hundreds of hours on the telephone, who also were trying to obtain help for him.
During this time, Steve was in and out of the emergency room, having no medical coverage, he could not simply follow up with a doctor like you and I would. The emergency room was his Primary Care Physician. My encounters with the staff at that hospital, and watching via video calls how they spoke to Steve and how they treated him beyond “less than” infuriated me. He was a human being! He had a family who loves him! The oncologist who diagnosed Steve called me one day and explained that what Steve actually had was 2.5cm sized tumors in his throat that metastasized to his head, cancer in both lungs and probable pancreas and intestinal cancers. He also said that there was no way Steve’s body would withstand the chemo he would need. In that phone call, what I really already knew -was now a reality, this was “it”. That was a gut wrenching phone call.
I HAD to figure this out and DO SOMETHING to make sure he knew he was loved, was warm and safe until his end. Steve’s father and sister were experiencing their own big health issues and while they were, and still are, very supportive, they could not take on the incredible task of Steven. With their permission and blessing, I began forging a plan.
Due to the tumors in Steve’s throat quickly growing in size, eating was almost impossible. Surgery to install a peg-tube into his stomach was performed so we could inject liquid into it for Steve to “drink and eat.” During that surgery, they found large tumors in his major arteries. His severely malnourished body was riddled with cancer. The oncologist was so patient and caring for Steve, while other medical professionals, that I saw “treat” Steve via video calls, treated him like he was a waste of their time, or worthless.
It was time for Steve to come home. It was time to tie up some loose ends with God. It was time for Steve to talk to our sons and his other son, who had not spoken to their dad in about 15 years. It was time to visit with his dad and his sister and brother. It was time to only give love, dignity and respect.
On Thanksgiving of 2021, Steve and Tommy were spending the day sitting in a park. Steve was so sick and he laid down on the sidewalk to sleep. Tommy stayed watch over him and his backpack which held all value to Steve. Tommy posted a nondescript picture of Steve’s back, laying on that sidewalk, to Facebook and said something like “You all need to be thankful for all you have. This man has cancer and is thankful to be alive.” That post began a whirlwind of comments and a local business owner figured out where they were by the photo background. That man, Joe, left his own family Thanksgiving dinner and showed up at the park. He was angry at the person who posted the photo and would just leave a man on a sidewalk like that.
He pulled up and instantly realized what was really happening. Two men were homeless on that sidewalk, not just one. After talking with Tommy and Steve, Joe asked Steve if he could pay for a hotel for him. Steve's immediate reply was "Can my friend Tommy come too?" That was Steve's good heart, he was not going to leave Tommy behind. Joe paid for 3 weeks of a hotel until I could get there, gave them a little cash and told them they had card blanch at his Italian Restaurant and they could have any food they wanted delivered. I spoke with Joe on the phone that night, explaining that I was making plans to come to Texas for Steve, and I broke down crying. I was astonished that this stranger would exude so much compassion, empathy and care for two homeless men he had never before met. I thanked him over and over for his grace and for allowing Steve and Tommy to have dignity by helping them. Joe told me Steve would never again sleep outside.
Tommy and I spoke several times a day, as he helped from his end to care for Steve, picking up medications and my Walmart orders. I explained to Tommy that I could not put Steve on an airplane to come home with no ID, and asked if he would drive us to Illinois and stay in my home, with Steve, while I worked. I was still working as a chef with grueling hours, but my income was now supporting Steve’s medical needs and daily needs. Tommy said yes and we began making a plan.
On December 11, 2021 I flew to Controne, Texas under the premise with Steve that I was just visiting. I was there to bring him home, he just didn't know it yet. Tommy picked me up at the airport and we rolled up to the Motel 6 where Steve was sitting on the curb, waiting. His face lit up with his happy smile as I got out of the car and I knelt on the sidewalk to hug him. We hugged for a long time and he kept saying in my ear “I’m so glad you're here!” I knew immediately his time in our world was short. It took some urging, reminding him that Tommy was coming too, and the promise of all the beer and cigarettes that he wanted, and he finally agreed to come home.
Then next morning as we packed up the car to begin the long trip Illinois, Steve announced that he needed to walk back in the woods to his tent. Tommy and I thought he may try to run off. But in reality, he could barely walk. I asked what he needed from his tent and he said “I may have some knick-knacks I want to bring.” I told him I would walk back to the camp with him to help carry out whatever he needed.
While Tommy gassed up the car, Steve and I walked off into the Texas woods. In Texas, they paint big, purple “X’s” all over, on all the trees etc. It means “No Trespassing” or you risk being shot. We must have walked almost a mile into the woods, there was a little creek and some railroad tracks……. and it was a very scary walk. When we got to his tent, my knees almost gave out at what I saw. I literally choked back crying and seeing what Steve thought he deserved to live in. This man was the father of my children, a son, a brother, a grandpa…. an avid bike rider, a fisherman, an electrician, a humble, calm, man who was loyal to his friends, and he was living worse than what we would call squaller. I snapped a quick picture because to me, it was unbelievable. It was almost soul crushing to see.
Steve started digging around, handed me a pair of shoes, a overnight bag, a lantern, and then, from under a sleeping bag, he pulled out a brand new tent and said, “Let’s go.”
That was a moment etched in my mind forever. That tent. All he needed was that tent as his security that no matter what was coming in his life, or what may happen, he had a tent - a home- no matter what or where he ended up. Those moments hit me hard. The realization to what his life had resorted to for a sense of security, the tent was not a basic need, it was a must have, above food, or a shower but - the tent.
We took the long walk back to the road where Tommy was waiting with the loaded car and we began the long 3 day drive back to Illinois.
After about 6 weeks of me struggling to pay for all of Steve’s needs and medications, with the help of a Go-Fund-Me account, (Jevity for a feeding tube is very expensive) I was able to connect charity hospice care through the grace of JourneyCare, Barrington. They were angels sent from God! They treated him with such respect and dignity. The same day they came to talk with Steve and I, they delivered a hospital bed, table, mobile toilet and oxygen machines. They also took over all the cost of his medicines and surgical recovery supplies. His needs were very quickly growing.
Tommy and I learned how to feed Steve via the peg-tube, we hung a white board up to document medication times and dosages, if he ate anything and how much. We learned how to get meds into Steve when he could no longer swallow the pills. We cleaned and changed bandages protecting the peg-tube. It was a big job, physically and emotionally. Tommy took the long day-shifts as I worked, and I was up with Steve every few hours throughout the nights. But Tommy and I were determined that Steve would die with dignity, love and respect.
We arrived in Illinois on December 14, 2021. The next day Journey Care staff came to go over everything with Steve. He asked if he was going to have chemo, and the intake nurse, Rachel, kindly and humanely explained that she had talked to his doctor, and his body would not survive chemo. He looked at me, so scared and I held his hand and quietly said “I got you!”
The first week he was home, he would jump if I walked near his backpack. That pack held everything of any importance to him. One day, about 2 weeks after he was in Illinois, he was looking for something. I told him his backpack was upstairs and maybe it was in there. He looked at me, and laughed and said “I forgot about that thing!” Another moment etched in my mind forever. He felt secure, comfortable, and safe enough to forget his backpack! That was a big deal.
Steve loved to be outside. December 2021 weather was kind to us and we could sit in the sun on the porch, a spot where he loved to sit with his radio playing his classic rock and blues music he loved so much. One day he asked me “Why are you doing all this for me? I owe you so much for the kids…” My reply was “Steven! You are the father of our children! And I know your every wound and I know your good heart”.
Steve was on this earth 31 days from the day I knelt on that sidewalk to hug him in Texas. He was able to reconnect with all 3 of his sons, and the sheer, giddy, happiness shown in his eyes after talking with each of them, is unforgettable. He spent days visiting with his dad and sister, who made the hour drive to my home several times, just to be with her brother or bring things he needed. He hung out with his best friend since 2nd grade and spent a day at Illinois State Beach ( a place we all hung out in our early days). Steve and I sat on my porch and I told him to talk with God, just say “I’m sorry” mean it, and he would be in heaven with both of our mothers.
Steve’s last month on this earth were probably some of his best days of his life. On January 11, 2022, I came home from work and he was having seizures. I called Journey Care who said it was time to take him to their facility. I knew he would not be coming back. Tommy and I followed the ambulance from Woodstock to Barrington where Steve was admitted. His dad and sister came to spend time with him. I remember his dad saying “I wish there was something I could do for him” I told him “You are doing it. You are here.” His dad reached out and held Steve’s lifeless hand in an act of a father’s love for his son. The past did not matter anymore, this was a father and son together.
Tommy and I slept in Steve’s room that night. In the dawn hours of the morning, Steve was trying so hard to breathe. His body was almost lifting off the bed as he labored with every breath. I laid next to him on the bed and had no idea what to say….but just i started talking. I talked about when I was 17 and he was 20 and the day that our amazing son Dusten was born. How we sure thought we knew it all back then but how dumb we were! I talked about the day that our son Devin was born and how he is a big Army soldier-man now. I told him Jesus loves him, that his mom and my mom were waiting for him in heaven.
After a few minutes, I said “Look buddy, I know breathing is really hard right now and you don’t have to keep trying if you don’t want to, but, I am not leaving, I am staying right here until you decide.” Steven took his last breath and left our world.
After the funeral home came and prepared him, I laid over his body sobbing and could not stop thinking “It did not have to be this way! None of it had to be or end this way!” The conception of Steven’s Home was put in motion, led by God and provided for by God…..and I know, also by Steven.
