Senator John Sidney McCain III died at 4:28pm on August 25, 2018. With the Senator when he passed were his wife Cindy and their family. At his death, he had served the United States of America faithfully for sixty years.

I was in the far northern reaches of Canada on a wilderness river when Senator John McCain died. We got to our endpoint—Nahanni Butte—where there was internet connection, and I learned that he passed away a few days earlier. It was not a surprise, obviously. Friends had been keeping me posted about his struggles and diminished strength through the summer. Still, it was a very sad day when I heard the news.

Tributes at the U.S. Naval Academy Honoring Senator John McCain today by General David H. Petraeus and Jack McCain.

Tributes at the Washington National Cathedral Memorial Services Honoring Senator John McCain today by Meghan McCain, Senator Joe Lieberman, Dr. Henry Kissinger, President George W. Bush, President Barack Obama.

Since his passing, I note that little mention has been made about Senator John McCain’s legacy of work on issues critical to the Nation’s Indian tribal governments and their citizens. As a citizen of the Hopi tribe of Arizona, I feel compelled to remind us that, in addition to his work on foreign policy and national defense, during the majority of his time in the House and Senate, Senator McCain was a leading voice for and architect of federal Indian policy.

As Senator John S. McCain rounded 80, it looked like he might have his mother’s DNA: she is still alive at 106. When he died on August 25 (the same day Ted Kennedy died), I realized he was as mortal as the rest of us. But that doesn’t quite capture his magic, so I turned to Hamlet: “He was a man. Take him for all in all. I shall not look upon his like again.”

My fellow Americans, whom I have gratefully served for sixty years, and especially my fellow Arizonans, thank you for the privilege of serving you and for the rewarding life that service in uniform and in public office has allowed me to lead. I have tried to serve our country honorably. I have made mistakes, but I hope my love for America will be weighed favorably against them.

I am able to write this, thanks in large part, to John McCain. Eighteen months ago, when I lay in a Moscow hospital, in a coma after a severe poisoning, McCain took to the floor of the Senate to draw attention to my case. Public attention is often the only protection in these situations; and it certainly was for me.

He closed his speech with words as meaningful in these days after his passing as they were that night. “I call on all Americans . . . to not despair of our present difficulties but to believe always in the promise and greatness of America, because nothing is inevitable here. Americans never quit. We never surrender. We never hide from history. We make history.”

McCain would have been the first to reject any misplaced claim to sainthood, and he emphasized his imperfections. The senator admitted his errors, and he learned from them, and then he went on to make new and different ones. He could be quick to anger, usually but not always in the cause of righteousness, and I was on the receiving end of a little heated language on occasion. But he’d then so often compose himself, call me “old pal”—even when I was a staffer four decades his junior—and we’d be off and running again. That was par for the course. It was also one reason why, even among those he fought over politics or policy, few seemed able to help but love him.

When John McCain was shot down over Hanoi in October 1967, he was near death: his leg, both arms and left shoulder were broken. Some of his fellow POWs didn’t think he’d make it. But the Naval Academy grad beat the odds then and continued to do so until Saturday, when he finally succumbed to brain cancer at age 81.

John McCain, to paraphrase Teddy Roosevelt, had the heart to demand joy in life. And demand it he did, with his wife, Cindy, whose own work, particularly in Africa, remains a powerful example of caring and commitment. Like so many others, I will greatly miss my friend. We will all be poorer without his leadership. He was a modern-day rough rider, and those of us who knew him well will longingly remember those days when we could join the charge by his side.

John McCain was not a model midshipman. While at the Naval Academy, he earned so many demerits for unsanctioned outings that by graduation he was made to march the equivalent of 17 round trips between Annapolis and the fleshpots of Baltimore. He later regretted finishing fifth from the bottom of his class instead of dead last. As his mother—still alive at 106—often said, “He was really a scamp.” McCain preferred “maverick.”

With John McCain, you never quite knew. That was a big part of his appeal, one of the things that made him interesting, and also one of the things that drove people who value ideological consistency a bit batty.

John McCain’s sense of obligation to his country was shaped by a long family history of military service that included the contributions of two four-star admirals: his father and paternal grandfather. It was tested to the utmost by five years of cruel confinement and torture in a North Vietnamese prison — an ordeal from which he emerged to spend many years in public office and national prominence.

Today, I am grateful for John McCain. I’m grateful for the long and meaningful miles he traveled, and for having the privilege of having traveled just a few of those miles with him.

A random guy living in the back of beyond not only knew John McCain’s name, but knew him to be a friend who would help him if he could. I think my friend would be content with that as a eulogy. He died knowing that a life spent serving the dignity of his fellow man brought the most satisfaction and with it a little hope for God’s mercy.

Friends of Sen. John McCain are thinking of him with deep affection in the wake of an announcement by his family that he has now chosen to discontinue medical treatment, 14 months after he announced that he had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of brain cancer.

Last summer, Senator John McCain shared with Americans the news our family already knew: he had been diagnosed with an aggressive glioblastoma, and the prognosis was serious. In the year since, John has surpassed expectations for his survival.

RESOLVED, by the House of Representatives of the One Hundredth General Assembly of the State of Illinois, that we commend Navy Captain and United States Senator John McCain for his service, in war and in peace, to the United States of America.