When we returned, Angela was at the Salvation Army. She had been talking to Sylvia to request us to leave her apartment. We respected her request. We moved our belongings back to the Salvation Army and wondered what to do. Ida and Fanny’s friends, Peter and Samantha, said our daughters could stay inside at their house; but they had no room for us. We decided that it would be best for them to go since they would be warm, fed and able to shower. We did not want them sleeping on the streets. They took some of our belongings while we took the blankets. After we said goodbye, the 4 of them left for the night.
Grief stricken and now without our daughters, Wanda and I found a little back alley between a church and The Guardian newspaper building where we could sleep. I laid out our blankets and we bedded down. We both sobbed and sobbed that night; pain was coursing through us. Losing our beloved Patches, then our daughters and now sleeping in a back alley in the winter; it was the worst birthday in my entire life. I had just turned 45.
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