Poor Taxi Driver

When life becomes a dreadful nightmare you have nothing to hope but to wake up. How can I wake up when a reminder pops up out of the news, personal life and even more; from any person I meet every day or perhaps every hour.
The taxi driver that I am going to tell you about is an example.
Few weeks ago I was leaving my home town city Fallujah heading to Baghdad. I was saying to my self:
“Better or worse at least I can see something different”
It was a disparate attempt to convince my self that it will be a better life when I go back to work after a day off (usually I do have these arguments with my self.. crazy..eh.. whatever”.
Back to the man, the short version of his story is:
He has three sons… the elder one is Akram and two other kids.
Akram was killed with other civilians in one of the car bombs in Fallujah.
The second son went to his secondary school and never came back.
The third son, he is 16 years old, lost one of his eyes as he was buying something to his family from a mini-market not far away from his house and a passing by military convoy were targeted by a road side bomb and shrapnel injured the kid in the eye.
The real tragedy is the mother… he says she keep thinking when ever the door knocks especially after sunset that her missing son is coming back… she heard from someone that kidnappers usually release the hostages at night. The driver had to inform all his neighbors not to knock the door after sunset, his wife health deteriorate after she run to the main door and she finds out it is not her beloved missing son.
He was asking for help to treat his son eye… bitterly I couldn’t find any humanitarian organization that can help him… or maybe I didn’t search enough as I don’t have that much time to spare…
These men are amazing… how brave and patient they are… yet they give me the example and the will to continue living…