Leroy Sly Scott

Leroy died early this morning. His ending was quick in relative terms. Much different than his long life spent mostly on the streets of Seattle and Portland. He was 63.  Leroy almost died once before, but a friend told the hospital staff Leroy wanted to live and they should do everything possible to save his life.  They did.  Leroy said he never forgave his friend for saying that.

But this time there was nothing that could be done to keep him alive.  Cancer that was only diagnosed two and ½ weeks ago had already given him a death sentence of a few days to 2 weeks.

Leroy was clear he did not want to remain in the hospital.  He had two choices.1) a nursing home where he knew no one or 2) the Peace House where I live with 12 others.

He had two requests.  He wanted to have friends around him.  And he didn’t want to be in pain.  We were able to grant him those wishes at the Peace House.

I knew him well.  I knew what he liked and what might set him off.  And yes, there was a time last year when I had to ask him to leave Sunnyside Community House for a day because of his behavior.

Team Leroy … John, Meg, Caleb and me were his chosen companions. Each of us had been present in Leroy’s life at significant times.  We all knew and loved Leroy and were prepared to love him to death.

The hospital staff graciously gave him meds to make it a soft ambulance ride to his final destination.  When he landed in the soft double bed on the second floor of our home he smiled and said “at last.”

So we sat, watched old sit coms. Told Leroy stories. Got to know each other better and listened to Leroy breathe.  Occasionally he would yell out for Mommy when the pain gripped him.

And yes.  He did mention in the hospital that he was looking forward to his favorite drink…Steel Reserve.  We granted that wish too. We dipped  a sponge into the beer and wet his mouth with that cold familiar liquid.  A smile came across his face as he licked his lips and sucked the sponge.  One dip… that’s all he needed to cement the memory of that’old friend’ that kept him company as he held court on the stoop.

The last hour of his life we listened to songs sung by Frank Sinatra. We could imagine Leroy crooning with Meg, her in the apartment window above his seat on 34th and him positioned directly below. As he gave birth to his soul, the song “It was a very good year” was playing.  There was breath. And then there was silence.

The four of us bathed and dressed him as we honored the body that held this incredible man. And then we got out the champagne, sparkling cider and Steel Reserve and toasted our friend, Leroy.  We ended our little ceremony by tying Remembering Hearts to his wrists as a reminder that a piece of our hearts go with him and we have an ongoing connection to Leroy. No surprise that in the background we could hear Frank Sinatra singing “I Did it My Way.”

Leroy used to sit on the stoop at 34th and Belmont across from Stumptown. Now there is a shrine there holding his memory.

It’s a beautiful day for flying.  And tonight the moon will be full.  I wonder if I’ll see him dancing.