Too many stories about the homeless do not have happy endings. Joshua Bolt, who went to high school in Boulder, and who spent most of his life here, died this past Saturday of a suspected overdose. He will be deeply missed, perhaps most especially by the many people who knew him at Feet Forward. Jennifer Livovich got the news on Saturday and it spread quickly through the community. Over the past few days, she received multiple texts and emails, and people reached out over Facebook offering condolences, words of comfort, memories. Today’s Tuesdays in the Park program was a more somber occasion than usual. There was a table positioned under a huge tree with a picture of Josh taped on it. Two more pictures were taped to the table, alongside a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Shay, one of Feet Forward’s volunteers, handed out small index cards and a pen to anyone who wanted to write a memory or share last words with Josh. The cards were stored out of the wind in one of the cardboard food trays with the top ripped open, and inked with one word: MEMORIES. Another volunteer handed out tie-dyed t-shirts to friends of Josh.

Josh’s description of himself on Facebook is: “I am a spiritually driven positive motivated father put on this Earth to inspire and lift others up.” Based on what was written on today’s cards, those words ring true.

“Josh, you were good to me when no one else was. You will always be looked at fondly by me.”

“Josh and I grew up together here in Boulder. I considered him a friend. Through all his hardships, he never had anything negative to say, always upbeat. I just hope he’s with his son and finally at peace. Much love Josh!”

“Thank you for being a guardian angel 4 us.”

“God bless your soul Josh! You always were a positive golden person! Somehow you always brightened and cheered me up every time I saw you. You’ll forever be my friend. Much love!! RIP.”

“Hey Josh, I’m glad I got to meet you and help you with a tarp. We will see each other again, but until then, just give me a helping hand. Love you & Miss you.”

Josh had a long history here, and people remembered him from the park, from school, and from around town.

“31 years – too many memories. You will always be the bigger brother that I never had. You are with Jesus now just like you wanted. You better be at the gates when I get there, you butterhead. I love you.”

“Hey Buddy! I’ll never forget all the fun we had at Asa’s and what a beautiful human you were. Love you always.”

“Met Josh at Circle K. He told me about SHIFT and Flatirons Church, how he was part of starting it. Recovery is where it’s at, he said. He loved the Lord.”

“Summer when we met and hung out in a pub with Dave & Co.”

Others just wanted to let him know he’d be greatly missed, that he was loved, that he left a mark.

“You were loved. You are remembered. I know you are with God.”

“Keep you in my mind and heart and prayers. We are going to miss you.”

 “Love you.”

 “Love you, Joshua.”

“Josh, love you son. Gonna miss u.”

 “… I will miss you.”

  “U R loved, brother.”

That smile of his came up quite a few times:

“Josh was a good, kind-hearted person, always trying to smile. RIP.”

“Josh – I will always remember your smile, kind heart, and sweet spirit. Go with God, my friend!”

“Josh, thank you for always having a smile… you will be missed.”

Joshua’s battle with addiction was not a secret here. One of Feet Forward’s peer support workers told me how he talked about it with Josh all the time, and how upset he was that he was not able to help get through to Josh in the way he’d hoped. Another man experiencing homelessness, sober now for ten years, told me that he used to be in treatment with Josh, and expressed a similar sadness. One person simply wrote “Sorry bro,” and there is so much in those two words. There is the sorrow for the tragic loss of a man who died far too young, and the unspoken apologies of the many who couldn’t help him no matter how hard they tried. The words on another card expressed the hope of many:

“Your struggle is over, brother. I will see you in the kingdom.”

And another person, in tune with Joshua’s own sense of himself as a spiritual person, wrote:

 “May your final sacrifice be AWARENESS.”

It is true that Joshua Bolt’s story does not have the happy ending so many wished for him, but perhaps there is some redemption to be found. Today I saw a group of people gather and respectfully respond to the death of someone they loved who had died far too soon, and from something they knew was plaguing their community. They lined up to get food, perhaps to pick up some necessary clothing or hygiene items, or a backpack. They expressed gratitude for the peer support, for the volunteers, and for being in each other’s company. Joshua’s death clearly hit them hard. Jennifer Livovich’s memory of Josh is that “he gave kindness to others even when he needed it more.” Today was a day that exemplified how small kindnesses – the writing of a note, a hug, the sharing of a memory – alongside big acts of kindness – accompanying one another in grief, bearing witness to another’s pain – are the defining acts of our shared humanity, no matter where we live.

One last card:  

“Tinker on, Bolt.”