NOTE: This is taken from the comic book Star Trek #19, written by Peter David. Not something you would usually find in a collection such as this, but... just read. I still think it says something, something very important.

This is a Eulogy as spoken by Captain James Kirk. 

     I'd  like  to  thank you all for  coming  to  this  memorial 
service.  The following is the Starfleet approved eulogy that  is 
recommended in cases like this...
     "We are here to honour the memory of name-goes-here.   Rank, 
Surname was a fine officer, a credit to Starfleet, and a sterling 
representative of the blank race."
     "Space exploration is a dangerous task.  Rank, Surname  knew 
this,  and yet he, she, or it, did not let that deter him,  her, 
or  it.  We can be thankful that we had the privlege  of  working 
with  Rank,  Surname,  and will forever honour the  name  of  our 
fallen comrade."
     I cannot tell you the number of times I have delieverd  that 
eulogy.   Filling  in the proper  blanks,  embellishing  slightly 
where  I could.  And I have congratulated myself after each  one, 
telling  myself  that  I did honour to the  name  of  the  dearly 
departed.
     Death has blended into death.  I have lost more good men and 
women  that I can count.  Their faces blur before me, and I  have 
come to realize that we cannot honour their names when we  cannot 
remember them.  That we cannot honour the words of our nice, safe 
Eulogy...when they are merely words.
     I  have spoken to over a dozen of you today, and  discovered 
that none of you knew Thomas Lee.  Nor did I.  Even though he was 
a  member  of  this  crew, sharing the  same  dangers,  and  same 
rewards.  Even though he was one of us, he was...a cypher.  A  no 
one.   Defined  by  the parameters of his  position:  A  security 
guard.  No one got to know him.  No one cared.
     He  spoke  to  no  one, and no one spoke  to  him.   He  was 
just...another man in the ranks.
     I  do  not  blame you.  I'm as guilty as any  of  you.   But 
Thomas  Lee  died saving my life.  Perhaps it's selfish.   But  I 
want that to mean something.  I want him to mean something.
     His mother's name was Anna.  His father's, Jack.  He had one 
sister  who  died  when she was five.  He  was  born  in  Sparta, 
Illinois.  Graduated in the upper half of the Academy.
     I  have more facts at my fingertips.  But I don't  know  his 
favorite  colour, I don't know his tastes in music, of if he  was 
ever  in love, or how he took his coffee, or if he drank  coffee.  
I  don't  know  why he joined Starfleet.  I don't  know  what  he 
wanted to accomplish.  I don't know him.  I don't know a man  who 
saved my life.  And I never will.
     There  was absolutely nothing special about him, and it  was 
that  the realization that I perceived him as not being  special, 
that indicated there was something wrong with me.
     Just  another man.  Just another expendable  security  guard 
who won't come back.
     How many have we lost?  How many have we cared about?
     While we are busy exploring the unknown wonders of space,  we 
must not lose touch with exploring the wonders of each other.
     We  must always make time for one another, because we  don't 
know how long we'll all be around.
     I  will always regret having taking for granted someone  who 
sacrificed himself without a second thought.
     Becuase even the death of one of us, diminishes us all.