When Cassie Wilson vanished in early April, she was two months away from completing a two-year program at the Henry Leland House, a residential complex dedicated to the wellness of substance abusers and the homeless.
While there, the 41-year-old became part of a family of vulnerable people supporting each other through hardships, relapses, triumphs and joy.
The facility's staff also counts themselves as members of that family.
They've organized a "calling out" ceremony meant to call Wilson home if she can hear them or honour her if she can't.
"We're not forgetting Cassie," said Kristi Schwanicke, supportive housing and program co-ordinator. "She's a missing woman who now joins the list of missing women in B.C. but in no way is she just going to be a name on a list for us.
"She's one of our family."
They say Wilson's disappearance has left a hole where her exuberant personality used to be.
"Bubbly doesn't describe her," laughed Schwanicke. "It was to the extreme, like 'Seriously, Cass, tone it down.' She would just be engaging to the point where we couldn't keep up."
Dale Brush, supportive housing co-ordinator, said despite Wilson's own meagre financial situation, she was always generous with the little she had.
"She'd have one cigarette left, somebody would say, 'I sure need a cigarette,' and she'd hand it over, like, 'You need it more than I do.'"
Previously homeless, Wilson took an inordinate amount of pride in her room, said Brush. Whereas most other residents are satisfied with the furnished room and bathroom provided at the Henry Leland House, Wilson's immaculately kept room had her touch throughout.
"You'd walk in it and automatically think it's Cassie," said Brush. "It's got fancy valances put over her bed. Her bathroom is really a girl's bathroom. Really fancy and set up just right.
"She took total pride in her room."
The room also showed the path of creativity Wilson took to help with her recovery to drug addiction.
"Art was huge for her," said Schwanicke, "and reflection and journaling. And her room reflected that."
While Wilson can be portrayed in a positive light, Schwanicke also acknowledged Wilson's struggle with drugs and her life in the sex trade.
"Those things were part of life, too, but she was so motivated to make change and had made so much change in the building. She really used the program to the full capacity. She was one of the hardest working (residents). Really, really trying."
Wilson spent a lot of time in her room and whenever she left, she'd tell the staff where she was headed.
But on the night of April 6 — Good Friday — staffing was minimal. Video images from the building show her leaving between 12:40 and 1 a.m. Surveillance video from the 7-Eleven at Sixth Avenue and Seymour Street captured images of Wilson an hour earlier.
That would be the last sighting of her.
Each police update paints a grimmer picture — family and close associates haven't heard from her, her bank account has been left untouched and police have no leads. Police have said they "fear the worst."
Wilson's family is travelling from Vernon, Fort St. John and Edmonton to join in the calling out gathering happening on May 22 at the Crossroads Inn parking lot at 1 p.m.
"Even though everyone's saying it doesn't look good, we don't want to give up hope until the final outcome," said Brush. "This is a way to keep people positive and keep people thinking about Cassie without it being a memorial."