Ronald Todd Emery (1/19/62-3/19/26) passed away today, the last day of a long, Maine winter, at the age of 64. He found peace in being surrounded by his immediate family. I would love to report that his battle ended gently and pain free, but unfortunately the reality of the situation was far from it. He fought his diagnosis bravely until the end, at the expense of his body and mind, as he did all things in life - never conceding until his body decided to give up on him. Though many of his achievements were personal and will remain with those that were privileged to experience them with him, one of his great personal achievements was his unwavering dedication and lived-example of hard work. He took pride in the fact that he worked for 36 years at Bath Iron Works in Bath, Maine alongside many coworkers who (over those many years) he would come to call friends and family. That hard work carried over to all aspects of his life: He built his own home, regularly practiced his numerous hobbies (fishing, hunting and enjoying the outdoors), explored creative pursuits, and all while paying special attention to spending time with his family. There is no doubt, that he had so much more to give, had he been afforded the time. Those of us that are as blessed as Ron was in life, often have the great priviledge of having a partner to experience everything with. He leaves behind the love of his life, his companion, his rock - Karen (Keating) Emery. When they met, I don't think either of them could imagine the beautiful life that they would build, and the adventures that they would go on together. They have been a shining example of the power of love and commitment over the past 40+ years, as they had children, built a home, and provided each other with the love and support that only two souls connected as deeply as they were could. Perhaps his greatest achievement was that as a father. Ron took that job more seriously than any other. You would find him at every football game, every wrestling match, graduation, or personal achievement. He was his children's biggest cheerleader and greatest inspiration. He led by example, and laid the foundation for them to succeed on their own merits, while always being the sympathetic ear for them to come to when they needed him. Joel Emery and Jami Johnson (and their partners Emily Emery, and Nate Johnson) have lost the man, whose dedicated and thoughtful parenting made them into the people that they are today. He leaves behind a life where in his own words "there was so much more that (he) wanted to do". That legacy will live on with those he loved - particularly in his grandsons: Alex, Rorey and Henry. For every lesson learned, fish caught, motor turned, or project finished - no matter how small those accomplishments may seem, there will always be a piece of him that they carry with them, and a proud "Bumpa" cheering them on. Little more needs to be said, of his love for his family. He is survived by his brother Dana Emery, and his sisters Debra Decato and Kathy Sutton. There was a special place in his heart for each of his siblings. They shared a bond that can only be had by those who struggle and overcome the odds together. He is also survived by his mother and step-father: Susan Sweetser and Robert Sweetser. His mother's spirit and strong will, and his step-father's kindness and generosity were tenets that he carried with him everyday. Among those that cared for Ron, were his innumerable friends, nieces, nephews, and extended family. He was the kind of person, who was always willing to help a friend with a project, cast a line in any kind of weather, and support them in any way that he could. It's a testament to the kind of man that he was, that so many people will miss his smile, his kind eyes, and his generous heart. As you're reading this, I'm sure you're thinking of a memorable story - of a moment that you shared with Ron. He was never short of those stories either - eager to share, laugh or cry with anybody that he had a connection with. Though his time has come to end, those stories will endure within all of us. On most Sunday mornings, you wouldn't find Ron. He would be on a hike with his dogs, having coffee with his wife, at his favorite fishing spot with his son or daughter, or in his garage teaching one of his grandsons how to build something. That's how we should all hope to be remembered, not by our individual accomplishments, but by how we enrich our hearts and minds, and by the impact that we had on those in our lives. That's a legacy that few could hope to achieve, and one that he always made look so easy.