A Neighbor

A neighbor died the other day! He lived in a rooming house not too far away. He stopped to talk to me a few years ago, but I don't remember his name. I wish I did. Death always needs the dignity of a name. He drove a cab for a living.

He was a young man probably in his early forties. He was heavy, somewhat unkept, but always friendly. He'd drive his cab past my house everyday and, if I were out, we'd wave to one another.

I don't know what the cause of his death was, but I was saddened when I heard it.

There are many souls like this man who live quiet lives, unassuming and going about their business doing everyday jobs that serve their fellow citizens. Jobs of service. Jobs without acclaim. Jobs rarely appreciated. Often when these souls pass to that other place few notice and fewer still mourn the passing.

e.e. cummings once wrote: "Small service is true service...even the daisy by the shadow it casts protects the lingering due drop from the sun."

It is my belief that angels hide in commonality. They do so to give the rest of us the opportunity to be gracious, to be empathetic, to be loving, compassionate and caring. I don't know about you, but I've missed many humanitarian opportunities from angels that have crossed my life's path.

The death of my neighbor reminds me that I need to try harder.