His Name Was Ray: The Unicorn

Ray Allen Randall was my friend. More than that, he had become family. Over the last 4 years or so, we spent an incredible amount of time together. He was different than anyone else I've tried to help. Everyone has said things like "you were so good at taking care of him" " you were his hero" "you were <fill in the blank>".

Let me be very clear, Ray is someone I chose to help because no one else was, not the way he needed. He was a man that had lost everything simply due to his health. I made up my mind early on whatever he needed, I would make happen. He was seemingly alone and he didn't trust anyone, including me, when we first met. All that said, he gave me as much, or maybe more than I ever gave him. He added so much laughter and light to my life and that is not always easy to come by.

I kept visiting him at his camp and checking on him when he was outside. From that, started a friendship I didn't expect. He wasn't able to help me in the same ways I helped him, but he was there through my grandparents health decline and their deaths less than 2 months apart. He always asked how they were doing and how I was doing. My grandfather struggled with Parkinson's, as did Ray, so we discussed that at length. He was also there on one of the worst days of my life.

The day we found Jason's body in 2018, I had scheduled to take Ray to the doctor that afternoon. Had it been anyone else, I probably would have cancelled or gotten someone else to fill in. Everyone encouraged me to go home. I mean, I was an emotional wreck. But I went to pick Ray up and almost immediately, he knew something was wrong. He didn't know what to say but he was silent at times and encouraging at times. The silence was never awkward with us. Again, once you spend enough time with someone, you know silence is what's needed in certain moments.

We did laugh after a while that day, and things didn't seem quite so bad, even though I had nightmares for a few weeks after. I remember telling him about my nightmares and he shared with me about his struggles with nightmares and not sleeping well in general. When I think of that day, I don't just think of the horrible. I think of a friend that existed and kept me from going home and just sobbing alone.

I first met Ray at a homeless facility my church was serving at, probably in 2014. I met him in passing and he stuck out in my mind because people from our group talked with him and hugged him and seemed to really love him. He also wore this camouflage hat that was turned up on the sides. A perfect camping or fishing hat. I never saw him without it, but I always knew it was him because I saw that hat before I saw anything else.

Ray loved the woods and the outdoors. He was smart and he could build things out of nothing. From my understanding, he used to take his kids camping. He worked in the landscaping business for a time and I don't know how many conversations we had about gardening and plants. My grandmother loved her garden, as well. Over the years, I have enjoyed it more and more and once I lost my grandmother in 2019, it became something that made me feel close to her and now Ray. He helped me save more plants than I can remember. His best advice, "I mean, you just gotta watch them, Mrs. Kim. It's not that hard. You can do this." This coming from an expert. I had my doubts, but I've gotten better because of his advice.

The plants he had at his apartment as of late were beautiful. He knew all about the ins and outs of planting and fertilizing. We even exchanged a few plants. He gave me a piece of a purple shamrock plant. He told me, "It's basically a weed. You can't kill it." I tried a few times but it has always come back. I even killed a rust-type fungus that was taking it down and told him how well it had recovered. His response, "I told you, you can't kill it."

I was able to help move him into his apartment in 2019 and immediately he started growing things. I gave him an orchid and also part of an aloe plant I had gotten at a local sale. I planted it in a piece of pottery I made when I was in college at Ole Miss, the second time I went back. It was just really cool to bond over such a small thing, but a thing that helped both of us.

I got the call August 17th, 2021, just over a week ago, that my friend had died in an apartment fire the night prior. My heart broke into a million pieces. He had called me that day around lunch and I had planned to call him back that next morning. He was gone 7 short hours after he called.

I always imagined he would end up in the hospital because of all his health conditions and I would have to make the decision to take him off machines or some scenario similar.

He asked me a while back to be his power of attorney. The weight of that was not lost on me. He told me that I was the only one he had here and that he trusted me to make decisions on his behalf.

We had a power of attorney drawn up and a will with all his wishes outlined. I told him I thought I knew what he wanted in certain situations but after things I've experienced in hospitals, I wanted him to put everything in writing. He did. He wanted to protect me as much as I wanted to protect him. On the chance family showed up to vouch for him, he never wanted me to have to deal with any drama. Mostly, he just didn't want people to fight over him.

He paid for an insurance policy so the cost of his cremation would be covered and he even tried to leave his kids a small amount of money. It was so important to him to do that, even if it wasn't much.

There's so many stories I don't want to forget and I don't know how to keep them all. Chris and I have talked a lot about this precious man that came into our lives. Chris said to me, "I don't understand how such a neat person ended up where he did." I don't either but I'm thankful he crossed my path.

Before Parkinson's took his ability to paint and write legibly, Ray was a painter and he enjoyed writing. He only shared that he painted one day when I told him I once was an art major. And well, I do enjoy writing from time to time. He attended a tech school in his 20's. Again, he was smart and he was always someone that worked with his hands. The last job he had was as a ship fitter, at a ship yard in Alabama. I must have heard about Bayou La Batre a thousand times over the course of the last 4 years, along with his stories of home in Minnesota.

When the Parkinson's began, he tried to hide it to keep working. After a while, he could no longer keep it under wraps. Welding and unsteady hands don't work well together. That was the beginning of losing everything.

I think of him often. Some days I would call him just to check in. Other days I would call him to order his groceries. Always we would talk for about an hour, just catching up and talking about life, the weather, worldly happenings. Ray had become a part of my life and there is a void where he once lived.

I told him often he was a unicorn. The first time I said that to him he laughed a lot. He asked, "What do you mean by that? Is that supposed to be a compliment?" I explained to him he wasn't like anyone else I had met while they were homeless. He didn't have the same problems of people I usually meet. He wanted to work towards something. He liked having friends and people he could talk to. He liked helping, especially those he cared about. I explained that to him the best way I could. He always thought it was funny.

When Chris and I went to his apartment to get his binders that had all his important papers, we also grabbed any notebooks or paperwork we could salvage. Everything was black with soot, burned, or both. All I kept thinking about was he told me over and over, "If anything happens to me, grab the binders. My whole life is in these."

One of the notebooks had a short note, which from my calculations of when he could write this clearly was written a year or more ago. It was basically a short love note to his children. He had always loved them and thought of them every day. There was a P.S. on the back. "Please add the unicorn to the homeless memorial. Good-bye my old friend, Mrs. Kim Townsend." He then drew a picture of a unicorn. I sobbed uncontrollably when I found this note. It was tucked away, waiting patiently for us for when he died.

This was around the time his breathing was getting worse from COPD and he just wasn't feeling great. He had bad days and I'm sure he wrote this thinking he could die at any time. He was also put on oxygen full time around that time.

When they found my friend, he was still sitting on the couch. He never even knew there was a fire. He was asleep and just never woke up. The only thing that brings me some comfort is that he didn't suffer. Considering everything, he could have had a much more painful death. But the truth is, I thought we had more time. We always believe that. We always want more time.

The Unicorn may have left the building but he will never be forgotten. He was truly one-of-a-kind and there will never be another Ray.