Bill Salmo led his life in such a way that noone ever questioned his motives or integrity. A man of faith and a counselor by nature and trade, my father had the mental and emotional strength to see him through 27 years of life post-astrocytoma diagnosis, chemo, radiation, seizures, and strokes; enough to raise and marry off his 3 children and meet his first grandchild. Bill was an avid St. Louis Cardinals and Denver Broncos fan, and diligently monitored his March Madness bracket with as much gusto as he did his crossword puzzles. A gentle man, Bill, at one time a talented soccer player, stood 6’1″ with thick, dark curly hair, strong Italian nose, and enough fuzz on his arms and legs to confuse a gorilla. It was his rough, chapped hands with their tufts of hair that held his children and first granddaughter, however, that held his power. While Bill lay dying in hospice care, he maintained a firm grasp of the hands that held his despite strength leaving every other part of his body. His chest caught tears even as he sat wheelchair-bound and lay bed-ridden. At 58, Bill’s life ended prematurely, though his legacy lives on in the clients who he helped; in the words he published in grad school; in the strangers with whom he frequently made small talk; in the hearts of his children and their mother; in the eyes and curious intelligence of his granddaughters; and in his grandson, who carries on part of his name. Dad, we love you and honor you today and always. We are forever your clan.