I wanted to thank everyone for coming. It means more than we can say to have people gather to remember my father. That gathering seems even more important to me, because his death was so unexpected and so shocking. In some ways, I think we are all still huddled for shelter.

It also has become clear to me, as we’ve been getting emails and calls from people from around the world about my father, that as much as he told us stories about his work and his colleagues, he also told his colleagues stories about his family and home. So it is nice to have the two important parts of his life come together today. My mother especially wanted to express her thanks to everyone for the caring, love and support that everyone has offered her and our family in this last week.

I just have two stories about my father that I wanted to tell. As I thought about them, I realized they are both about the same thing.

The first is that my dad was always the one to pick my brother or me up from school when one of us got sick. My mother was a high school German teacher and her schedule was less flexible, so my dad would always get the call from the school nurse and he’d be the one to drive up and get us. On the way home, we would always stop and get the same three foods-chicken soup, crackers and ginger ale. There was magic in those foods, especially in the crackers and ginger ale, which we never got otherwise. If you were really sick, and I never quite figured out what the cut off was for that, he would move the tv next to the bed and you could watch tv in bed. It was all really safe and clear, the same thing every time.

It wasn’t until I was in college that I realized that most kids didn’t always get picked up by their father when they were sick, that in most families, the mother took on that caretaking role. My father took being a dad very seriously. He was a full co-parent before that term really existed and what I remember most about him coming to get us was my absolute certainty that he would be there soon, and that no matter how lousy I felt, there would be ginger ale in the near future. He took care of us.

The next story is more recent and more sad. When Mark and I came to the house on Thursday, the day he died, we were in shock and I know we felt completely hollow and helpless. We started looking through his office trying to find contact information to inform people about his death. It helps that Mark is a technology wizard and can use any electronic device ever invented, but what we found was that my father had already organized everything for us. All of his financial information, his passwords, his will and even his taxes for this year-it was all waiting for us, because he had thought about the possibility of his death and planned for it carefully. And that planning and organization was also his way of taking care of us.

Each time Mark and I found another clearly labeled file, each time we discovered that the electronic deposit for the tax payment was already in the queue, I could feel my father’s presence. Even after he left us, he’s still there for us and with us and I will always be grateful for that.

I wanted to end by just saying something to my father’s grandchildren, who are here from Texas, Megan and Emily Routbort, and my kids, from New York, Gabriel and Zachary Baskin. I know that for each of you this is your first experience with someone you love who loves you dying. It is hard and sad and confusing. But I really want you to remember two things from today, if you can. Your Opa loved you very much. Being part of your lives was something he treasured and enjoyed. He couldn’t have enjoyed or appreciated you each more. And, your Opa lived a life of travel, adventure and excitement. He loved his work and he loved his family, and I hope for each of you that your life is also as full and as rich as my father’s.

I wanted to invite you all to my parent’s house after this memorial. My father loved hosting people, having parties and having guests. He loved food and he loved gathering. So we really wanted to end this day not in a funeral home, but in a setting that fits my father better-please do know that you are all invited to my mother’s house which is about 5 minutes away.

My brother and I both agree that my father was not a big ceremony kind of guy, so it was hard to think of how to end this memorial. We decided to play a song for you that meant a lot to my father. He used to sing it in the car, and we all had separate parts to sing along with him. He was loud and off key and off rhythm and he couldn’t have enjoyed it more. Mark and I have both sung this song to our kids when they were babies. For us, the song says everything.