You won't read about it in the newspaper. It will not be mentioned on the radio or tv. Yesterday has come and gone and with it, Mike Hensley. I received news about his death yesterday from a man who lived next door to Mike.
I first met Mike when he was at Rapha paying off fines he owed the city. At that time, he was a dynamo. Work like no ones business and loved being out doors. To say that Mike lacked some social skills would be an understatement. In Mike's world, he was right and everyone else was wrong. Mike use to classify himself as a "survivor", and there were times he did exactly that...survive. When Mike's fines were paid off, he had an opportunity to stay at Rapha and continue to be the grounds keeper, but the "roaming" bug was to great in Mike and he had to move on. Never mind that he had no plan, no where to stay, and no job. That was Mike.
Over the next 8 years, Mike and I became friends. I watched him struggle with each day always landing on his feet (so to speak). He lived where ever he could find cover. For over a year, Mike lived under an abandoned house. Not in a basement, because the house did not have one, but simply under it in the crawl space. He managed to keep a cell phone and would call me at least once a week to talk. He called it "Talking"...I call it venting. I would listen as he went on about one thing or another, always being the victim.
During holidays, I would invite Mike to come and share a meal but he always refused. So each holiday, Vicki would load up plates of food and I would take them to Mike. Sometimes my sons went, sometimes my grandchildren. First couple of years we'd meet Mike at various locations around town. Mike could put away some food.
Eventually Mikes health began to decline. He was able to get an apartment at Gateway community on Walnut street. That was a relief to me for him to be out of the weather. He also started receiving a check each month so he was able to buy groceries.
As the years passed, me taking Mike to the hospital for various reasons became more frequent. At one point, the doctor's told Mike that he had congestive heart failure. Even that news did not change Mike from his lifestyle. Full speed ahead was his moto.
The last time I saw Mike was shortly after Christmas last year. I took him to buy some groceries and on the way home he told me that he probably was going to the hospital after the first of the year. I suggested that he needed to go now and asked him to let me take him so he could check in. He would have none of that.
Shortly after the first year, I called to see if he needed anything and we set a date for him to make a trip to the grocery store. On the day we were suppose to go, I called and he told me that it was too cold for him to get out, that we would reschedule. A week past and I didn't hear from Mike. I called several times but no answer. I thought that Mike was in the hospital, that he'd gotten a neighbor to take him. Another week, more calls, no answer.
Finally I made the trek to the hospital only to find that they had no listing for Mike. He wasn't a patient. I began to be concerned. So yesterday I went to Mike's apartment to see if he was there. No answer to my knock upon the door. Mike's neighbor informed that Mike had passed over the weekend. I stood there kind of numb to the news, then suddenly was flooded with all these memories of Mike.
As I drove home, I played the should-a / could-a / would-a game. Bottom line none of that mattered. What had happened was final. No do overs. The only strand of hope that I have is something Mike told me. I always shared with Mike of God's love and desire to see him receive His salvation. Mike would always get quiet, tears would come to his eyes and he would speak in a quivering voice..."Me and Jesus are o.k."
Mike Hensely...... I will miss you
Your friend, "Bro." Mike
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