Remembering "Little Leo" a man who lived outside society.

Leo Murphy was a good man who lived a bad life. He made mistakes, plenty, but his heart was in the right place, his daughters say.

They blame addiction, a troubled childhood, and suspected mental illness as much as they do their father's lifestyle choices.

Some might say Leo Murphy died the way he lived. In recent years he stayed on and off in a local homeless camp in Bristol Township, where, at age 52, he suffered a fatal heart attack on Sept. 8.

His life was hard, but happy, say friends in the camp and advocates for the homeless. He shared it with his girlfriend, Kathie Enyedy, who he married earlier this year.

Murphy was the go-to guy at the camp. He was the person who calmed flaring tensions between camp residents. He wrote poems and built an outhouse with a chemical toilet.

He never met a stranger he didn't like.

Visitors never left empty handed when Murphy was around. He'd push into your hand a small American flag, worry stone or other trinket he picked up somewhere.

"If you come to this table, you come as a friend," he told visitors.

On Tuesday, his family of outsiders gathered again in the Bristol Township woods to remember

Murphy, a man whose children say he taught them how not to live and how not to make bad decisions.

"Leo is kickin' it with God in the heavenly campground," said Pastor Gary Alloway of the Redemption Church of Bristol.

Remembering a Man who Friends say was Unforgettable

More than 20 people attended the brief outdoor service in the biting cold. They were other homeless and formerly homeless friends along with volunteers such as Alloway who work and minister to the homeless.

Friends recalled Leo as a friendly, funny, brilliant and hospitable man and proud military veteran. He told people he wasn't a churchgoer, but he attended two services every Sunday. He liked the music.

"Sometimes you'd get sick of his stories," his friend Butch Huffman said, "but he was great."

Shaina Spector, a volunteer who drove Murphy and Enyedy to church remembers a Valentine's Day breakfast with them that she described as one of the best days of her life.

"You guys have changed my life," Spector said. "You helped me find my purpose in life."

Enyedy, who moved in with family after Leo's death, recalled how when everyone in the camp went to sleep, she and Leo would sit at the main table in the camp looking at the stars.

"I still do it when I go to have my last cigarette of the day," she said, dabbing at tears. "I look at the stars."

Don Richards, a retired pastor who works with the homeless, presented Enyedy with a large handmade wooden cross that everyone at the memorial service signed.

He also presented her with two American flags.Murphy's remains, though, are still at the Bucks County Morgue in Warminster.Richards and others arranged a funeral service and military burial at the Washington Crossing National Cemetery.

But Murphy's marriage to Enyedy, while recognized in the eyes of God, is not legal in the eyes of the court.

Remembering a Father Who Lost His Way

His four children, whom he had not seen in more than 20 years, have yet to claim the remains or release them to Enyedy. Erin Murphy, 29, of Arkansas, says her brother, Sean, 34, plans to bring their father back to Florida where he lives and where Leo has other family.

But Sean and the coroner's office have been unable to connect, she said.The family has also been focused on caring for their mom, who suffered a near fatal heart attack the day before their dad died.

"It's taking far too long, which is a shame because no one should have to go through that just to be taken care of properly," Erin said, adding, "I know that the people in his camp are suffering with grief from his loss just as much as we are."

Erin doesn't really remember her dad. She last saw him when she was 5.

"I have one vivid memory of hearing "We Built this City' while he played on a foosball table with one of his friends," she said. "I think I had to have been maybe.”

Erin and her siblings last saw their dad Christmas Eve 1986, the day their mother threw him out of the house for his drug addiction, she and another sister said. (The coroner's report showed her father did not have drugs in his system when he died, family said.)

"We had presents for him that he never got. After a few years, I guess my mom gave up and ironically, I suppose donated them to a homeless shelter," said Katie Murphy, 31, of Colorado. She was 7 when her dad left.

Little Leo is Finally At Rest

Katie says her dad was not a bad man, but a weak one.At 18, Leo joined the U.S. Army and was sent to Germany where he disarmed Pershing missiles.

He married his high school sweetheart, who dropped out of school at 17 to be with him. By age 25, they had four kids.Murphy had a troubled childhood that he never shook, his daughters said.

"Before drugs took over his life, and took our place in his consciousness, he was a brilliant man," she said. "He took a lot of pain and found his own way to deal with it."

Before he developed his drug addiction, his children were the center of his universe, Katie Murphy said.

"He always stopped what he was doing to help us or play with us," she said.

He taught them important lessons like how to not write past the margins, roller skate without falling and make extra-cheesy macaroni and cheese, Katie said.

He never spanked them, always finding a better way than violence for dealing with conflict. He'd never intentionally harm anyone, she said.

Leo sent her an apologetic birthday card on her 16th birthday. She last heard from him nine years earlier.

The next, and last, time she spoke to her father was eight years ago.

She wanted to tell him he was going to be a grandfather. But when Leo didn't remember his two youngest kids during the conversation, she decided it was better they led separate lives.

"The sad truth is, if I had seen him on the street, I would not have recognized him," she said. "(I remember) he had a full head of hair, a soft smile, and vibrant green eyes. The only thing unchanged in the (recent) pictures I saw were his eyes. Well, that and he was always that skinny."

Katie Murphy wants to forgive her father, but she can't shake off her anger — at the circumstances her father found himself in and the choices he made.

Every one of his children has comfortable homes with spare seats at the dining room table and spare beds to share.

"But I think I can understand some things, and I have a lot of peace and forgiveness for the things I don't understand. He was human like the rest of us, after all, and we've all made our share of mistakes, right?" Katie Murphy said. "Every person that knew him in our family has shared the same sentiment: "Thank God little Leo finally has rest.' "

This story originally appeared in the Bucks County Courier Times on Dec. 8, 2010

This article originally appeared on Bucks County Courier Times: Leo Murphy didn't have a home, but he had a family who lived him.