The man I remember is the one from those last two years.

The one who made breakfast with his slow and careful hands.

The one who waved at a school bus until it turned the corner.

The one who, after a lifetime of being the strong one, finally found the far greater courage it takes to be the cared-for one, and let his wife and his daughter love him all the way through the dark.

That is his real legacy to me, larger than the fund, larger than the career, larger than anything.