Luke Smith, 55, rejoiced by reunion with daughter after chance meeting near park

By Karen Datangel

Luke Smith’s daughter broke into tears two years ago when she chanced upon her father, whom she hadn’t seen since she was 11 years old, walking near Boeddeker Park.

At 28, Gloria Smith got her father back. And Mr. Smith, as his health later deteriorated, got a loving caretaker for months — until he died.

But it was hard to say by looking at him if Mr. Smith was any happier. He was a rare one with the gift of happiness and was forever smiling.

Ms. Smith said at Mr. Smith’s Nov. 3 memorial that her father left the family of six in the Tenderloin in the early 1980s, that there had been no contact with him, and his whereabouts were unknown. The family members all live elsewhere in the city now, she said.

After the reunion, the father and daughter saw each other “off and on,” Ms Smith said. It was only after Mr. Smith’s health seriously declined, when he was making three hospital trips a week for kidney dialysis treatments, that she began to care for him and they grew closer.

It was a role reversal from what she remembered best of their former life.

“He took care of our hair back then,” said Ms. Smith. “And he tried to weave his hair, even if he didn’t have enough.”

Mr. Smith, 55, died Oct. 27 in his third floor room. Ms. Smith, his only child at the memorial, said Mr. Smith’s drug and alcohol use had weakened his liver. A neighbor said he also had diabetes.

Ms. Smith said that her father’s favorite hobby was watching horror movies. He had “too many,” nearly 200 films.

“They were stacked, VHS and DVDs combined,” said Ms. Smith’s boyfriend Deandre Jones, who also saw Mr. Smith on a regular basis.

The memorial’s dozen mourners remembered Mr. Smith as uncommonly upbeat — he was always smiling, never argued and was cordial giving advice or just inviting somebody to hang out.

“He always offered a good thought or a good feeling, no matter what your day was like,” said one man.
Another resident, who met Mr. Smith a year ago, said, “He told me, ‘You’re always welcome to come over.’”

“He was a part of the community, and he wasn’t reclusive,” said Scott Ecker, the Elm’s Support Services Director. “He had a lot of friends here and was well-liked.”

Kenneth Lawrence, who lived across from Mr. Smith, said that he still waits for his neighbor to walk out his door.

“I used to look at him like he was stuck on stupid,” said Lawrence. “I couldn’t understand why he was always so damn happy. Even when he went to the trash room to take out the trash, he was still smiling.”