I witnessed distant cousins of mine bid farewell to their father this week. In today’s world, he was a young man at the age of sixty-two. This family was always admirable. They were a team and you knew it. Both of the parents were strong, goal oriented, rise to the top individuals. They showed their children that with hard work anything could be accomplished. They gave them wings and encouraged them to fly when the time was right. Even though the father battled cancer, he never wanted his children to stick around and wait for him to die. He wanted them to get out and start living their life, so at the end of his, he could see how much they grew. Walking into the funeral home it was obvious how much this man was loved. There were people everywhere paying their respects, reminiscing about a time they shared with him or just sitting quietly on a chair as tears rolled down their cheeks. When it was my turn to hug and offer my condolences to my cousins, I noticed a beautiful thing; all three sons were wearing the same tie. As I walked up to the coffin to pray for the safe return home of the soul of their father, I observed that he too wore the same tie as his sons. When I wrapped my arms around their mother, it was noticed that she and her daughter both were wearing the same shirt. What a class act, I thought. Even in death, they are a team. Death takes away the people we love but it never can make the impression they left with us disappear. This family left an impression with me that I would never forget. A team’s dynamic changes with the loss of a key player, but the players left behind play harder and stronger. Demonstrating it was the person lost they will forever play for. They will pack away their team uniforms, knowing the captain is no longer with them. But he left them with the courage it takes to become a captain of another team.