Like others, Mike, I don't know what to say. You are truly an inspiration, example, and guiding voice for us all.
I hope you and your family might like this poem, which reminds me of you. It was written by Theodora Kroeber, a novelist and poet and daughter of one of the 20th century's most influential anthropologists, Alfred Kroeber. Kroeber had taken under his wing one of California's last "wild" Indians, Ishi, who came down out of the hills in N. California at age 49, when the last of his little band had died. Ishi lived out his days (5 years) in a building on the Berkeley campus where Kroeber was on the faculty.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ishi This poem is written in the "voice" of Ishi.
Poem for the Living
When I am dead
Cry for me a little.
Think of me sometimes
But not too much.
It is not good for you
Or for your wife or your husband
Or your children
To allow your thoughts to dwell
Too long on the Dead.
Think of me now and again
As I was in life
At some moment
it is pleasant to recall.
But not for long.
Leave me in peace
As I shall leave
you, too, in peace.
While you live
Let your thoughts be with
the Living.
—Theodora Kroeber
