We remember Raymond, a gentle soul, an artist, a middle-aged man with mental health issues that prevented him from working. Supported by social assistance, he lived in a flophouse and visited us from time to time to ask for money for his paints. He would return, sometime later, with a painting he’d done, as a gift. A week or two later, he would return and ask if, perhaps, we might like to make a contribution toward the painting he had given us. In such ways we kept Raymond’s soul alive, until we learned of his death, and mourned his passing.