Bob lived his life by giving to those around him. Whether it was time, advice, money or even grief...you could always count on Bob to give you a little something to let you know he was thinking of you. To his family, he has given the gift of strength- an enduring bond that will remain long after he has gone.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Goodnight When I try to guess what my father's thoughts must have been during his seven-year battle with multiple cancers, I cannot help but think of this particular poem. He refused to give up and fought hard to stay here with all of us, for all of us. When I speak of my father to my children years from now about his strength and unrelenting determination, I will tell them that he fought each day's battle without fanfare, without complaint, and without pity- armed only with the love he had for his family and the need to spend just one more day beside them. Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rage at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.