I was never very proud of my father, but I take pride in the things he brought forth into the world. When I look into his casket, I feel a mixture of pity and remorse. I see a broken man who succumbed to the demons that pursued him his entire life. Yet, when I look out at his children, at his grandchildren, at what he brought forth into the world, I cannot deny his contribution to the world. It’s a contradiction I may never be able to resolve.

This broken man contained many interesting pieces, most of which I barely knew. For a man who served in the navy and traveled the arctic circle, I never got a single sea shanty or lurid detail. Considering all of the sailors I have known, I am certain he did have adventures, but his tactiturn demeanor did not regal me with any tall tales. No one sung his songs.