He was slumped over in a wheel chair.
He might have been asleep.
I didn’t know his name.
Maybe he didn’t know it either.
And to me he was a stranger.
But he has a story, as does everyone.
Just because I do not know its chapters
does not mean that I should dismiss him.
He may have had some glorious times –
may have once been filled with laughter –
may have often felt on top of the world.
And his sorrows may have deepened him.
Because I don’t know doesn’t mean
that I should turn from him
and only view him with pity.
So I look at him
as one who has a story to tell –
as one who is more than he appears to be.
And though life’s endings often obscures
what a life has been all about.
I think it is good to see beyond these things
and at times to see each man
as one with a story known to someone
who might still be there for him.
That is what I hope.