Richard and Laura
Mr. Mathis recounts carefree childhood in Arkansas where he and his siblings, four sisters and one brother, would play all day in the woods, fishing, hunting frogs, building tree houses and getting as dirty as possible. "There wasn't an avenue we didn't explore when it came to having fun," he said, sitting on the edge of his small bed in a studio apartment downtown.
Homeless for the last 15 years in San Diego, in and out of Father Joe's Village men's dorm, getting his meals at that facility, his mail at Neil Good Day Center, roaming the streets looking for work.
He was waiting his turn for housing on a seemingly endless list, when he was hit with the harsh reality of mortality.
After falling on an escalator in Horton Plaza, he sat down to let his dizziness subside. The dizziness never went away. In fact it got worse. So he got himself to a hospital where a series of tests revealed congestive heart failure.
His smile was interrupted by a deep cough, and he reached for the oxygen tube coiled by his pillow. His dog leaped on the bed and made herself comfortable at the foot of the bed, waiting to be scratched. Mathis explained that his oxygen production level is about a third of what normal lungs produce.
He said doctors have given him about six months to live. But he has surpassed their expectations in many ways. A lot of that Mathis credits to being in love.
He met Laura on 17th street. She’d had her own tough times, a brief marriage that was “never a good match,” some substance misuse issues, no money.
Together they became a comfortable pair, always happier together than apart. Recently, they decided to make their love a forever bond. They married in a small ceremony surrounded mostly by close family and care givers, the wedding vows interrupted once by the cell phone in Richard’s pocket, and during the kissing part by their dog who was not happy being tied to a table leg.
After thanking everyone, snacking on wings and a tasty wedding cake, the couple retreated to their studio apartment a block away, walking over people setting up camp on the sidewalk for the night, headed for the rest of their lives together.
