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'The list keeps growing': Longest Night vigils honor those who died homeless

Local organizers will lead candlelight vigils to raise awareness during the 34th annual Homeless Persons' Memorial Day


A memorial is seen in the Junipers in the area of former encampments east of Redmond earlier this year. The memorial was built by Patricia Griffith at her former campsite, and others have added names and mementos in honor of friends and loved ones who have died. Photo by Joe Kline.
A memorial is seen in the Junipers in the area of former encampments east of Redmond earlier this year. The memorial was built by Patricia Griffith at her former campsite, and others have added names and mementos in honor of friends and loved ones who have died. Photo by Joe Kline.

By DAVID DUDLEY


Homelessness is a death sentence for thousands of Americans each year.


To memorialize those who died, the Longest Night vigils are held annually on Dec. 21, the winter solstice. Also known as Homeless Persons' Memorial Day, the vigils offer family, friends and service providers space to share their memories of those who lost the battle to survive.


"When someone you love is homeless, you're always on edge," said Wendy Brown, a 63-year-old nurse who lives in Keene, New Hampshire. Brown's older sister, Beth Beauregard, was homeless in Bend and Redmond for more than a decade before a heart attack took her life on Oct. 25. She was 64. 


"I spent 10 years living in fear, bracing for that moment," Brown said.


A person bundles up while sitting along a sidewalk in Bend. Staying warm throughout the winter is a constant struggle for many unhoused individuals, and prolonged exposure to cold temperatures can lead to health complications and further challenges. Photo by Joe Kline.
A person bundles up while sitting along a sidewalk in Bend. Staying warm throughout the winter is a constant struggle for many unhoused individuals, and prolonged exposure to cold temperatures can lead to health complications and further challenges. Photo by Joe Kline.

That fear isn't the result of needless worrying; it's grounded in data. A 2024 Health Affairs study of more than 22,000 homeless people across 10 states and Washington, D.C., found that unhoused people have a life expectancy of 43 to 45 years. Overdose, heart conditions, diabetes, traffic and other accidents are the leading causes of death.


The Oregon Health Authority began counting deaths among homeless people, who are classified as "domicile unknown," in 2022 after the passage of Senate Bill 850. Between 540 and 647 died each year through 2024. The count for 2025 is 386 through September.


The most effective way to prevent unnecessary deaths, the authors of the Health Affairs study concluded, is to protect people from becoming homeless in the first place.


'So their deaths don't pass in obscurity'


One candle is lit for each person who died. Last year, 18 candles burned at the Redmond vigil. The dead are identified by their first names or nicknames to protect their privacy. Every one of them has a story.


Jericho Table coordinator Ken Cardwell sits on his Jeep parked near encampments in Redmond. Cardwell said when he visits encampments nearby and in the Junipers, he often helps with car problems and rides for people in need. “I like to be a giving person, whether it be objects or words of help. I like to help people. I get more reward that way than being paid,” Cardwell said.  Photo by Joe Kline.
Jericho Table coordinator Ken Cardwell sits on his Jeep parked near encampments in Redmond. Cardwell said when he visits encampments nearby and in the Junipers, he often helps with car problems and rides for people in need. “I like to be a giving person, whether it be objects or words of help. I like to help people. I get more reward that way than being paid,” Cardwell said. Photo by Joe Kline.

"Each year, the list grows," said Michael Hancock, executive director of Bethlehem Inn. "We honor those who died, but we're also pointing to the people who are still alive, still struggling. They need help now, so they don't end up on the list."


Hancock has helped organize the vigils in Redmond for the past three years. He said that anyone interested in gaining a better understanding of the struggles faced by homeless people should attend.


"The people we serve are facing significant challenges, and they're often alone," said Hancock.


Rev. Ken Cardwell, coordinator at Jericho Table and ordained minister at Community of Christ Church, has offered prayers and stories during previous vigils in Redmond. He's officiated weddings and funerals for homeless people, and he's spent years doing outreach in the desert and the streets.


"These are people who are largely unseen," Cardwell said. "This is one way to honor their lives, so their deaths don't pass in obscurity."


Cardwell recalled delivering propane and water to a man named "Steve." It was below freezing. Steve was in his tent, in his sleeping bag, struggling to stay warm.


Ken Cardwell, in a blue long-sleeve shirt, stands in the Church of God Seventh Day in Redmond, with pews and dark wood in the background.
Jericho Table coordinator Ken Cardwell stands inside the Church of God Seventh Day in Redmond. The Church provides space for Jericho Table to operate and distribute meals and supplies to those in need. Cardwell, also a minister at Community of Christ Church, said Church of God has allowed him to perform a few funerals and weddings for unhoused individuals. Cardwell has offered prayers and stories at past Longest Night vigils. Photo by Joe Kline.

"The next day, I learned that he went out of his tent and fell," Cardwell said. "He hit his head and passed out. He was eventually taken to the hospital, where he lost two toes due to frostbite. He died of a heart attack a couple of years after that."


Hancock shared the story of "Joseph," a man he worked with for years who struggled with homelessness and addiction.


After Joseph died violently in an encampment, Hancock met his adult daughters. They told Hancock that their dad was a talented musician before he suffered a debilitating injury and got hooked on painkillers.


"I'd seen glimpses of that person—the loving father, the talented musician—before the struggle," Hancock said. "It's important to remember who these people were before the trials and tribulations. These vigils give people space to share those stories with the community."


Before and after


Brown said her sister, Beth Beauregard, dreamed of becoming an artist when they were young.


"She could draw and paint," Brown said. "She was just 8 years old when she won a contest that was advertised in T.V. Guide. The organizers came to our house. They wanted to send her to art school."


Beauregard was a free spirit, but she changed after an auto accident claimed the life of her 14-month-old son.


"She was a different woman after that," Brown said. "She divorced her husband, then traveled to Oregon with a man who lived in his camper."


Brown knew that Beauregard and her new companion didn't have a residence, but she couldn't do much about it. Beauregard and her companion parked their camper in various spots between Bend and Redmond. A nurse and a volunteer EMT, Brown worried constantly about her sister, who battled diabetes but refused to take her medicine.


"She did things her way, there was no other way," Brown said. "She wanted to go the holistic route. . . it wasn't working."


Brown begged her sister to come home, but Beauregard refused to let her sister help.

"Being in New Hampshire was too painful," said Brown. "In Oregon, she could avoid dealing with the pain of losing her son."


Brown didn't give up. She paid for Beauregard to stay in a Redmond hotel during the winter of 2021, when temperatures plunged below freezing each night for months on end.


But Beauregard's problems mounted. Her foot was amputated due to complications from diabetes, then her leg. After parting ways with her companion, Beauregard sought shelter at Bethlehem Inn, where she lived for the final two years of her life. That's where she met Hancock.


"Losing her leg was hard for her," Hancock said. "She struggled because she couldn't do the things she used to do, the things others could still do."


Brown asked Beauregard to come home again, but she declined.


"Beth would always say, 'God will take care of me,'" Brown said. "To this day, I struggle to wrap my head around it. I don't understand why she would choose to be homeless instead of coming home."


It's hard to say specifically why Beauregard refused to let Brown help. Studies suggest that a strong desire for independence, fear of judgment, shame and mental health conditions like anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder often prevent homeless people from accepting help from family, friends and service providers.


One candle


Beth Beauregard laughs and looks off to the left while holding a tiny puppy.
Submitted photo of Beth Beauregard.

Brown was at a cheerleading meet in October with Beauregard's 9-year-old granddaughter, whom Brown had adopted, when the call came.


A doctor told Brown that Beauregard had a heart attack.


"She couldn't maintain her blood pressure, which usually means the end is near," Brown said, drawing quick breaths.


"I knew she didn't want to live on a ventilator, so I told the doctor to bring in the priest," Brown added after a pause. "It was the hardest decision I've ever made."


One candle will burn this year for Beauregard beginning at 8a.m. on Dec. 21 at the Longest Night vigil at Bethlehem Inn's Redmond shelter, situated at 517 NW Birch Ave.


There will be another vigil at 5p.m. at Drake Park in Bend.



Homelessness: Real Stories, Real Solutions (realstoriesrealsolutions.org) is a journalism lab funded by Central Oregon Health Council under FORJournalism (forjournalism.org), an Oregon nonprofit dedicated to supporting journalism statewide. Sign up for weekly newsletters to receive updates.


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