John looked like he was bringing the ideal forward. He got shot.
Bobby recognized that you had to work for the ideal to get it. He got shot.
Two of your brother assassinated, after your oldest brother was killed in the war.
Teddy was left alone, with the rest of the world obviously disappointed with what they were left with, to actually do the work. And the work went on, with the imperfect doing this work of ours.
You did good, Ted.