The Humanitarian and the little girl
A Writer's Life Blogging

The Humanitarian And The Lamenting Little Girl

She was sitting on the steps of a government building while people walked on by. No-one stops to see her or find the reason behind her tears. The little girl sitting there alone, crying, and no-one to comfort her or find the reason for her sorrow.

We walked by and leave it to him to notice and make a move toward the little girl to find out the reason for her lamenting. A soft-spoken, gentle man, with kindness and understanding. The kind of man, children adore and love. The kind of man that no-one is afraid of. (Unless there is need to be) This man could also stand his ground, defend himself and his loved ones, with no-one able to stand against him. Tough, soft-hearted, Merciful, and sympathetic.The man grabbed her in his arms, sat her on his lap, comforted her and found the reason for her lamenting, distress, sadness and worriment.
 
To most this small in stature man,  with a tough exterior, who had been a former Harley gang member, was sometimes one to be feared. Never backing down,  standing his ground and holding his own, was also a man of gentleness, amiable and altruistic. 

The little girl who had been so distraught, was now comforted and relaxed. Humanitarians may be few and far between, but this man showed that they are out there. They exist. Love beyond measures, beyond words. 

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If this man were alive today, he would be called great, he would be called a saint. Not just for this one act of kindness, but for the many like it. For the many ways he helped mankind and comforted those in need of a kind word, a gentle touch, a caring smile. If this man were alive today, he would be called Dad. For this was my father, whom I loved and adored and admired, for all my life. A Man truely loved and missed.

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