As I sat on my living room sofa, I watched a legend pass beyond the land of the living, gently covered by the American flag, and tenderly conveyed by our fine military. There were views of a family, softly looking upon each other and the covered remains of their dearest; couragously sharing this moment with a world, despite their personal loss and grief because they realize in some sense this was a loss for us all. I saw lanes lined with multitudes, gathering to find a connection, to share their sorrow, to offer their respect to one of our best taken too soon.
While watching the solemn ritual, my mind traveled back through wisps of dusty, yet painful, memories. Transported back to another living room, one Fall morning in 1963, watching the old family black-and-white set with my parents while another flag covered casket proceeded past our view. There was a precious little boy in shorts, saluting, and watched over by his sister. I wept for them, those two young souls losing their Daddy, even while I wept for the loss to our nation.
And later, after shots rang out in a hotel, yet another flag covered casket. This one spoken over with passionate words delivered in a sometimes breaking voice, by the brother left standing. That day, I wept for that brother's pain and loss, even as I cried for our collective loss.
Many years after that, that were whispered, feathery hopes that the little boy in shorts, now grown to a fine young man, would follow in his father's footsteps and become a champion. Again, hope was cut short.
There have been many tears over the decades for this family, for what they gave us, what they labored for, their ideals, their willingness to stand up, step out front, take the hits, and give their dedicated efforts towards improving life for us all. This family that understood that those who are given much have a responsibility to give back. This family that lived what they believed in: public service.
Yet, as I drifted back to my living room in 2009, I realized that, despite the tears, pain, and loss, there was much to be grateful for. We knew them. They served us. And although these precious lives were cut short in tragic ways before reaching the acme of their potential, we were left with one champion. He served us long and faithfully. He took the blows from rivals and media. He faltered, but he always regrouped and moved forward, never losing sight of what really mattered. He cared about us.
We were blessed, privileged, honored to have him for a full life. Indeed, there is much to be grateful for even as we weep because it still feels as if he was taken too soon. And while it is hard to imagine moving forward without his voice and fervor, we will move forward, as he always did.
Teddy, Senator Edward M. Kennedy, thank you. You will be missed, but never forgotten.