When “Far Away” Is Still Here

In the small, cold vestibule of a house 108 kilometres from MCC Toronto, a very pale young man sat with his hands folded tight, as if holding himself together. His large blue eyes carried a quiet, bruised sorrow, and something else, too: guilt.

He kept blinking back tears. Not because he did not feel desperate, but because he did not want to sound like he was begging.

Still, he would do anything for his family.

His voice stayed low, careful, like he was afraid one wrong sentence could make everything collapse. Again and again, he returned to his mother, her worry, her exhaustion, the way their lives have shrunk into fear and isolation.

And then, almost like a confession, he named what he believes started it all:

That he is gay.

Not as a truth about himself, but as a burden he thinks his family has been forced to carry.

A quiet, faithful family from Central Europe has been living in Canada for years. They are not newcomers in the way many people imagine. They have worked hard, tried to navigate systems, and done their best to build a stable life.

The reason they came to Canada in the first place was safety.

Before arriving, the family experienced rising hostility tied to their son being gay. The danger was not always loud, but it was constant: social punishment, stigma, and the sense that being “known” could turn everyday life into something unsafe. Like many families in that position, they made the painful choice to leave, believing Canada could offer them what every family deserves: dignity, stability, and a chance to live without fear shaping their every decision.

But safety is not always one clear finish line. Sometimes it is a long road.

They are now living in deep isolation, far from transit and far from the everyday help most of us take for granted. Out there, “far” does not just mean distance. It means groceries that are not easy to get, appointments that are not easy to reach, and hard moments that arrive without a nearby person to call.

When they first reached out, they shared only what they could. Trust is difficult when you have been turned away before. Their story came carefully, with dignity, and with a clear hope: not sympathy, but a way forward.

This is where community care can change everything.

MCC Toronto’s LGBTQ+ Refugee Programs are working to help stabilize the family and explore options to bring them closer to consistent support in the GTA, closer to services, connection, and safety. But that kind of move only becomes possible when a community helps open real, practical doors.

If you have any resources, connections, ideas, or referrals that might help, anything at all, including housing leads, community contacts, practical supports, or people and organizations we should speak with, please reach out by clicking the link below. And even if you do not have a practical lead right now, please keep this family in your thoughts and prayers. That matters too.

Thank you.