For Don: The Real Meaning of Christmas.

Don will never read this. He is basically fairly illiterate. He comes from a very well do to family who have given up on him through many rehabs, handouts, and giving up between bouts of giving in.

When he lived here I gave him the odd job of cleaning off my car from snow and ice. And doing a fine job if it was in the mornings, which it usually was. And gave him the odd handout and then stopped realizing I was enabling him. He often took my garbage out to the big bin and I'd slip him a five. If he was passing, he took my groceries up from my car. There was a great kindness in him. Sometimes he refused a tip, waving me off.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, his behaviour when he was drunk with other tenants in the community rooms was often aggressive and confrontational and threatening. Too many times. So his tenancy was terminated. And the management found him another placement in a building they have for troubled and addicts. He was brokenhearted leaving here, last September. But most of those who were involved in community activities were relieved. Understandably.

I open my door today and in the hall with my boots was a stuffed green bag and a card.

From Don.

It was packed to the brim with either gifts he had been given - warm gloves, a beanie, socks, soaps, deodorant, toothpicks, toothpaste, toothbrush, or freebies from motel rooms. You get the picture. Small packages of treats, a travel kit.

And I broke down and cried. 

This is one of the the most wonderful gifts I've ever been given. And as I write this, I'm still bawling my eyes out. The time, the effort, the lovely card, his access to our building. His walk from where he lived.

He had no way with words did Don. He was a pretty broken man from the booze and whatever pain he suffered in his life. I will never forget him.

You're a star Don. And a gentleman. And you will never know it.