My sisters and I were raised under the stars. The stars of the storied general we eulogize today. One of my most powerful memories comes from holding my dad’s hand. I was hurt very badly and lying in an I.C.U. bed following a bad accident. It was the middle of the night, yet my father was by my side after a long day of work. I was squirming in pain and anguish. Without a word, he just took my hand and squeezed it with a father’s love. It instantly relaxed and put me at peace. The last night of his life, I walked in to see him. Now, he was the one lying in an I.C.U. bed. He could not see or speak to me. So, I took his hand, just as he had taken mine decades before. I knew everything was not going to be OK. I wanted him to be at peace. But, again, I felt my father’s love in that hand. That hand that took my mother’s hand in matrimony. That hand that held me as a baby. That hand that signed report cards, tossed baseballs and fixed old cars. That hand that signed treaties and war orders, saluted service members and just for joyfully while I was telling a story. That hand is still now. But it left a deep imprint on the lives of family and dear friends, soldiers and sailors, presidents and prime ministers, and a generation of aspiring young people. Colin Powell was a great lion with a big heart. We will miss him terribly.