Life, how do you measure it? We struggle each day, often without notice, to continue it. Society tells us life is precious, unless we have no voice to defend our right to it.
I am a humble servant, who does what he can with the tools God has given. I am not a great writer, but I must try this day -- for a man has died, and if I do not remember him here; his passing will not be remembered, except by those few whose life he touched.
We remember those who have died in battle, we mark their passing with memorials and remembrances. This is not a eulogy for them. Each day thousands of nameless pass from this life with little to mark their passing. Men and women, boys and girls, whose struggle with life finally comes to an end and who will be received into heaven or hell without fanfare.
I had a neighbor, a good and honest man who life beat down until it could beat him no more. He lived his life as best he knew. He was an honest craftsman, who applied the talents he had to build the best life he could for his family. Along the way his wife decided he was not good enough for her, and cast him aside. She took his heart and his soul, his children and his life.
He struggled for the years that followed to find his way, as the debt built up around him. His work suffered, his health suffered, but he continued on, as a man must. He fought to keep his children on a righteous path, as any true father must. He did not burden others with his problems; he faced his fate with the stoic resolution of a man, who knew only the need to move forward against the storms of life that swirled around him.
Last night, alone except for God, he left this world. His son found him today, his daughter was called, his former wife told. His struggles are over, his burden laid down. It will be for those left behind to determine what should have been different, what could have changed. May God shelter and protect him forever.