John Doe died on a cold November night, asleep on the park bench that had been his home for the past six years.  He moved into our neighborhood around the same time that I did, and I cannot imagine what my life, or my children's lives would have been without him.

I admit when he first came into my life, I tired to push him out, but to be honest, who didn't?  He certainly didn't look as kind and gentle as he was.  We all passed him off as a common bum, until we got to know him.  Each one of us had a catalyst, a single moment that allowed us to see his true character shine through his gruff exterior.

I first realized his true nature soon after he moved into the neighborhood.  It was about a month after I first saw him.  I feel ashamed to admit it now, but my wife Helen and I were going through a rough patch in our relationship, partly due to me being unemployed at the time.  I was laid off at the start of December.  Helen was taking night courses in computers so she could get a job.  On top of that, we had troubles making the mortgage payments.  We were both stressed out.  A few weeks before Christmas, we got into a fight, we both forget what it was about, but I'm sure it was about money.  It lasted for a solid two hours or so.  We were both angry, and evidently we scared my daughter Alice.  She ran away from home that night.

We didn't notice it at first, and we both realized it at the same time.  She had gone, and it was late.  We were both fearful for her, as it was extremely cold outside.  We could follow her footprints to the local park, but lost her trail from there.  At about four in morning, after many fruitless hours of searching, we both decided to call the police in the morning after some sleep.

I woke up at six to the sound of the doorbell ringing.  There he was, John, with beer on his breath and smelling like cigarettes.  I was appalled by him.  I yelled at him, God knows why, and slammed the door in his face after taking Alice back.  In hindsight, I realize it was probably because he could care for my daughter and I couldn't.  I woke up my wife and we were both relived to have her back.  She had a cold, but was unhurt.

A few hours later, she asked me "Daddy?  Why did you yell at that man?"

"I don't know."

"He was really nice, Daddy.  He let me sleep in his house and stay warm."

I was shocked.  I told Helen that I was going for a walk.  I went to the park and found him.  He was drinking a coffee sitting on a bench, surrounded by various possessions.  I walked up to him and sat down next to him.  We both sat silent for a few minutes.  I finally said "Listen, I'm really sorry about earlier.  I don't know why I yelled at you.  My daughter said you were very kind to last night, so thanks.  I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to her."

He took a sip of coffee.  "It’s okay.  I know I'm not the type of person you'd want your daughter to be with.  I understand."
I didn't know what to say to that.  I reached in my pocket and was about to give him some money when he stopped me.  "I've no need for donations or charity.  You keep that."  He gathered up his possessions and walked away.

He never accepted donations.  I talked it over with my wife and she agreed to invite him for Christmas Dinner.  He politely declined, not wanting to impose.  I bought him a coat and a sleeping bag as presents, he didn't take them.  But he was not like the typical man who does not accept the charity he needed.  He didn't do it because he was proud; he did it because he was kind.  He only wanted to help, and he could not stand the fact that he was dragging anyone down.

Although I talked with him frequently, on walks, waiting for the bus, I never found out much about him.  Oh, I knew what he was like, I found out that.  He was deeply liberal, believed in equal rights for all, and he had a good heart.  I didn't know anything about who he was.  I never knew why he was on the streets, if he had or still has any family.  I never even found out his last name.  He simply told me, and all of us to call him John.

And yet, I don't think we really needed to understand why he was here or where he came from.  The fact that he was here was simply enough.  We never bothered to ask him about his scar, or limp, about his family or his past.  He was who he was to us, and that was all that really mattered.  I wouldn't have thought any different about him if I found out today that he was an ex-con, an illegal immigrant, a drug addict.  He was kind and he helped us and that was simply enough.

And he was always helping everyone.  Whenever I saw him, he was cleaning the park.  He would weed the gardens, clean up garbage, even clean up after dogs.  And still, throughout all his hard work, he never complained or accepted any money.  A city worker once offered to hire him full time as a groundskeeper, and let him live in the cabin in the park.  He declined.  He told me that he loved to clean the park, to make things beautiful again, and having it as a job, an obligation, would make it less fun for him.  It would be something that he would have to do, instead of something he did.  And as much as it pained me to see him go penniless everyday, I had to agree with him.

After a few years, he found a stray dog.  She was a mutt, filthy, old, part blind and deaf.  She was starving, a skeleton.  He immediately fell in love with the dog.  He named her Sarah.  Perhaps after an estranged relative, a daughter, wife, sister, mother.  Or maybe he just liked the name.  He nursed the dog back to good health, but I was worried for him.  John seemed to care more for the dog than for himself.  As she gained weight, John seemed to lose it.  Undoubtedly, he was feeding her more often than himself.  But things did get better, and he started to regain what little health he had before he took in the dog.

The dog had a profound effect on him.  If it was possible, he was happier with the dog.  She was someone that he could care for, someone that he could love and would love him back.  The two were inseparable; she was always at his side.  He would take her for walks by the park and my daughter Alice would play with her after school.  And she was well trained.  She never shied away from people, never minded being touched or crowded by little children, all desperately trying to pet her and win her attention.  I think that she loved the contact with people after years of neglect.  Something that I think John could pick up on and relate to.  They were both on the edges of society, and they both needed acceptance and compassion.

But things did not stay that way.  A few months before John himself died, Sarah passed away in her sleep, faithfully beside her master, on the same park bench that he would soon meet his end.  He took the loss hard.  The one thing in his life that he cared about most was gone.  Taken away from him in one cruel swipe.  For the first few days, he was a wreck.  After he buried her in the park, where they first met, he stayed there, doing nothing.  He didn’t move, eat, drink, talk.  He sat there.  Sometimes he would cry, sometimes he would sleep, but mostly he would just sit there, staring at the stone that marked Sarah’s final resting place.

After a few days, he left the spot, but he frequently came back.  After a week, he was mostly back to his usual self, except you could tell that something had changed.  He walked a little slower, his shoulders were more hunched, his limp worse.  The realization of being alone, again, seemed to be slowly crushing him.  Oh, he still talked to everyone, still cleaned up the park, but you could tell that he was distracted.  Finally, on that cold November night, it seemed that he just simply gave up.  He passed peacefully in the same spot that he last shared with someone.

Today, we shall bury him here, in the park that the loved, next to the spot where Sarah lays, so that the two of them can continue to make their rounds of the park.  I know that we will all miss John, and that the neighborhood will be missing an integral part that can never be filled, I implore you not to be sad.  I’m sure John would be upset enough as it is, having this ceremony about him.  And it would upset him even more to know that we were sad.  So as we say goodbye to him today, remember him as we always knew him.  The kind man that made the world a better place and asked for nothing in return.

Thank you.