For many volunteers and staff, the desire to serve folks in prison and on parole comes from a place of compassion. We show up because we care. 

What happens when we can’t be there to listen or help? 

This past spring, we received a letter from Gord, who has been a volunteer since 1990. When the prisons suspended volunteer programs in March 2020 due to the pandemic, Gord continued to serve by providing community support, receiving referrals from the local parole office. 

It was through these referrals that Gord met Charles (not his real name). In the letter below, Gord writes about being a friend to Charles, supporting him and meeting with him when there was no one else. Yet the friendship left Gord asking questions that have no earthly answers. He found solace, though, in a promise and a phone call. 

This Christmas, we hope you are encouraged by Gord’s compassion and commitment. We also hope that, like Gord, you can find peace in the truth: God is with us! And he is working to restore lives.

It was late spring, 2020, when I received a call from the mental health nurse who works out of the parole office. He said, “I have a fellow who could use some community support. He’s a lifer on parole, in his 70s.” He gave me a number to call. “His name is Charles.” 

I called Charles and we met for the first time in a park. I bought coffee, Tims was his favourite. We talked. I learned a lot about his background, growing up, drug life, dealer life, gang life, etc. Life in the east of Canada and across the border as far south as Florida, illegally of course.

After coming out of prison he lived in the Fraser Valley community where I grew up.

Because of a breach of his parole conditions, he was sent back to prison. So when I was contacted to support him he was in poor health with a major respiratory condition.

We met weekly for coffee. With no family connections, he looked to me as his closest friend. We connected well. He lived in an apartment on the 8th floor. By the end of summer he could not survive without his oxygen. Many times he would talk about why life was treating him so poorly. Many times I shared with him what made my life worth living, Jesus Christ, who forgives us even when we fail. 

At first, his comment was always, “I’m not religious,” but after several hospital stays he began to realize his life, or should I say his “breath for life,” was becoming a real issue. During one stay at the hospital, he called me, thinking that his life was coming to an end. He said, “Gord, I need to make peace with God.” We prayed over the phone and he made his peace. 

His condition did not improve. I gave him a Bible, but he had eye problems so reading was difficult. When I came to visit him I would read scripture and pray with him. Often he would cry and say, “Why didn’t I know this sooner.” 

This January, I experienced a serious case of vertigo. I had two episodes within a week. The second happened while I was visiting Charles at his apartment. I prayed with him, excused myself, and managed to drive home. I ended up in the hospital for a night. It took me six weeks to recover.

While I recovered, I wasn’t able to visit Charles in person. He felt like he was losing his only friend. We were able to talk on the phone several times but then, for three days, he didn’t answer. I called his parole officer, and she called the police and then the hospital. Someone had found him outside his apartment, lying on his side, without his oxygen. Toxicology tests showed fentanyl in his system. He survived six days in the hospital and passed away.

I was shaken. Why did the Lord let this happen when I could not be there to help him? The answer I may never know. I can only take confidence in the fact he had made peace with God and I will see him in eternity. I know he doesn’t need oxygen in heaven, and he no longer has to live with the memories of his past life.