He Was There All the Time

Behind every face is a name, and every name has a story. They don't all command headlines, but each of them matters. Their stories differ. Some are long; others are short. They move in all directions, at different speeds and intensities. Inevitably, they crisscross, intersect and collide.

"Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around, he leaves an awful hole." Is it chance that the right people are at the right place at the right time when we need them?

Or does an unseen hand number our days and order our steps?