I had not heard of Eldo before five minutes ago. Reading his story, however, made me sad. It made me sad that his man was not able to rid himself of his demons in this life. It made me angry. It made me angry that an ungrateful nation turned its back and him the the hundreds of thousands like him of whom so much was demanded, and so little was offered as a reward. It makes me weep. It makes me weep for the decades of pain and silent, non-teared weeping, the dreams that wouldn't go away, the fear that found no voice, the rage that could only be unleashed in self-punishment.
I had not heard of Eldo before five minutes ago. I am thankful, though, that Eldo lived, and served, and only wish that he could have been treated less shabbily by a nation that all-too-quickly turned its back on him.
Because I believe in a God of resurrection, I believe that Eldo will find his tears wiped away. He will find a compassionate shoulder upon which to weep the years of pain and suffering and loneliness, and those tears, after finally finding a way out, will be dried as he is led by the hand to a place where pain, and tears, and loneliness are no more.