As Senator John Kerry returned and took his seat behind the raised panel, for a brief moment he took in his audience. He was the only committee member present, as all his fellow senators had excused themselves to cast their own votes. He leaned forward, grabbing some documents in the same motion. “Something incredible has just happened.”

Growing up in a conservative world, I always feel some sort of gravitational pull to the Republican Party. Like gravity, this pull can be difficult to understand. My relatives range from both sides of the conservative spectrum—one grandfather has been a conservative circuit judge; the other once registered as a Democrat in an effort to sabotage the primaries. My parents, always supportive of autonomous thinking, were still conservatives with conservative views (though recently both have become slightly disillusioned with the Republican political world). So imagine the reaction from most of my family when they discovered that I would be working for Senator Edward Kennedy last summer.  

Up until the second week in June, I had planned on a relaxing summer—easy hours spent selling pricey shirts to wealthy Washingtonians, afternoons lounging by the pool, and nights unoccupied by worries of next-day hangovers.  However, days before my start-date a manager called to inform me they had over-hired and could not take me on.  As I frantically searched for a job, by some miracle I was able to land an internship in Sen. Kennedy's personal office.

"Regardless of your political views, it's an opportunity you can't pass up," my father told me on the phone. With that, I was a Hill intern—from Vineyard Vines to the office of one of the most storied senators in the history of American government.

Other than what I knew of his brothers, my only source of biography on Kennedy was what I heard from talk radio and read from small blurbs in history books. Did I really know anything about his policies?  No, but simply because he was a Democrat I had preconceived ideas of him as a politician. My inexplicable need to stay loyal to the conservative world overshadowed any sensible decision-making I might have applied. That is the nature of partisanship.

In one word, that summer in Sen. Kennedy’s office would best be described as unique. Earlier that year, doctors diagnosed the legendary statesman with a form of brain cancer. With time spent shuffling between operating rooms and his beloved sailboat, Kennedy spent less and less time at his Washington office. Months before we arrived, he took an “unconditional” leave of absence. During our first day orientation, the intern-coordinator told us he was doing well and expected to be back in the office soon, maybe even by the end of the summer.

But after only a few weeks, as we settled into our roles in the office, we all knew we would never get the chance to meet our employer. Each phone call, personal note, and quick conversation on the topic of his return all ended the same way: “The doctors are very optimistic, and he’s planning on returning soon.” Deep down, everyone knew that Kennedy’s leave of absence was going to be indefinite. But a blanket of denial, extending from Washington to Boston, hung over our intern room. Just as the permanent staffers, some who had been with Kennedy for decades, relied on their false hope to persevere, we too began to convince ourselves of Kennedy’s imminent return. Even to questions from my own family, I relayed doctor’s optimism and plans for a homecoming.

And the summer continued. I fell into routine, spending certain days writing constituent letters and others attending hearings. Though Kennedy was never physically present, his metaphysical presence was the glue holding everyone together. In each office, pictures of him with all sorts of celebrities, politicians, and friends lined the walls. Staffers still fought for his major causes, signing off on this bill and that bill. And though I had never before felt any strong inclination towards either side of these issues, I suddenly found myself wrapped up in the Kennedy rhetoric. It was impossible not to be.

The interns constantly answered mail, worked phones, and interacted with constituents. Maybe it is the dramatic side of my personality, but I decided early on that I would not reveal my true political inclinations. And as I worked, the magic of that office took hold of me. No, I would argue, the American health-care system is not sufficient. Yes, the Senator does believe in aiding our veterans. Actually, the Senator does not yet have a stance on that issue.

Was I becoming a Democrat? Hardly. Unlike the other interns, who all lived and breathed for the Left, I still felt my instinctive affinity for right. But I was definitely a Kennedy-convert. I bought biographies, watched video clips, and read speeches. And I began to reevaluate my own political beliefs. I even stopped classifying myself as a Republican—all without meeting, or even seeing, Kennedy. That was the power of his office. Regardless of where he was, his staffers worked as if he stood over their shoulders. It was as if an electrical current flowed through the halls, energizing everyone under Kennedy’s authority—including me.

And if I still had any doubts as to Kennedy’s character, the events that unfolded July 9 shattered them. And as they unfolded, I quietly sat in at a Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, unaware of them.

“Something incredible has just happened.” The audience shifted excitedly, waiting for Senator Kerry to continue. Though it was only my third week on the Hill, I knew immediately Kerry was stepping across the conventional divide between Senate hearing players and viewers. Eager to be brought into his world, we all perked up. After a brief pause, Kerry went on. “Senator Kennedy just returned to the Senate floor to cast his vote and was met with a full standing ovation…”

My fellow interns and I did not waste one more second—all three of us locked eyes, and without a word we stood up and quickly excused ourselves from the hearing. We practically sprinted down the hallway. Before even opening the door to the intern room, I could hear raucous celebration. A pang of regret and disappointment in my stomach, we pushed the door open and joined the festivities.

A week earlier, Senate Democrats had failed to pass a crucial Medicare bill by only one vote, mustering only 59 of a required 60. Kennedy, in the midst of his chemotherapy treatments in Boston, knew what he had to do when the vote came to pass again. However, his doctors urged him not to return to Washington. At that point in his treatment, his immune system was incredibly weak and susceptible to infection. But anyone who knows anything about the Senate career of Ted Kennedy knows he would stop at nothing to protect American healthcare. And so he made secret arrangements to return for one afternoon and cast the final ballot. The day the vote came to the floor for the second time, black suburbans pulled into the private Capital entrance. Kennedy’s son, Rep. Patrick Kennedy of Rhode Island, Kennedy’s niece, Caroline Kennedy, and Kennedy’s wife Victoria all exited the cars, followed by the Senator himself. And as he gingerly walked down the halls, Sen. Obama and Sen. Kerry met him at the Senate floor doors. With his entire staff and many family members sitting in the viewing gallery above the Senate floor, Kennedy, flanked by Obama and Kerry, walked through the Senate doors and made his way to his seat.

Democrats expecting Kennedy immediately stood and applauded. As Republicans realized what was happening, they too stood and applauded. And though staffers had told the other interns lucky enough to be present absolutely to not react to the Senator’s return, the entire viewing floor stood and applauded. For a few minutes, Kennedy basked in a full standing ovation. Usually reserved and precise, the Senate proceedings took a brief hiatus, allowing everyone to share the poignant moment. Barely able to walk on his own, Kennedy found the strength to return and protect the rights of his fellow Americans. Many witnesses wiped tears from their eyes, including fellow Senators. And as he cast the majority vote, a resounding “Aye,” Kennedy once again was met with a resounding ovation. Seeing Kennedy’s effort, a number of Republicans who had opposed the previous vote also voted “aye.” It was a moment of true glory for everyone present; proof that the hope and inspiration of devoting oneself to the American cause still exists. For me, it was an absolute turning point. An old man born of privilege and wealth, who for over 40 years had dedicated his life to the cause of others less privileged, in the face of his own passing, stood once more to fight his last battle.

*   *   *

Senator Kennedy, the “Lion of the Senate,” lost his long fight against brain cancer late Tuesday night. He was 77 years old. This article began as a tribute to what I learned at his office. Now it has become something far more important—a tribute to Kennedy’s incredible life. Though I missed Kennedy’s triumphant return, I have always felt I was there. Maybe other interns present relayed the images so vividly that I took them as my own, or spending time with staffers, who for weeks afterwards retained a certain glow from that afternoon, passed the glow onto me. Or maybe I was ready to believe in an American political world that can be affected by such a moving and powerful story. To his peers, even conservatives, Kennedy exemplified what we all deep down hope our politicians strive to be: someone who puts others before themselves.

We as a nation are still feeling the divisive effects of the Bush administration.  For the past eight years, you’ve either been on one side or the other. President Obama, who during his campaign vowed to unite Americans under a veil of bipartisanship, knows this. Republicans have already shown they plan to oppose much of Obama’s policy. And despite a liberally controlled Congress, the health-care debate rages on. Many, including me, believed Kennedy would have succeeded in convincing the Senate to pass his universal health care bill before he succumbed to his disease. Colleagues reported daily phone conversations with Kennedy as he desperately tried to finish what he called “the cause of my life.” Maybe, Republican and Democratic politicians alike will try to extend Kennedy’s legacy by finishing his life’s work for him.

It can be very difficult to break from what we know—this is a given. On matters as important as American politics, this truth can hinder what we can accomplish as a country. Without Kennedy, I am not sure I would be able to make that statement. It is the moments like his return for the healthcare vote that moves us to overcome what we know. My time in his office taught me two things I will carry with me for the rest of my life. First, the most important thing we can do is to give each other the benefit of the doubt. Regardless of what we think we understand, we never fully know anything. Keeping an open mind, or more importantly being able to reshape original beliefs, will make the world a better place. I am still not a Democrat, but never again will I blindly follow the standard of the Republicans. Second—and please indulge me on this one cliché—always hold onto hope. It is the most effective force for change that we have. When Senator Kennedy delivered the eulogy for his brother Robert, he quoted from one of Robert's speeches:

It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.

With Ted’s passing, just two weeks after the death of his sister Eunice, only Jean Ann remains from the original generation of America’s greatest political family. And just as Ted asked those mourning the assassination of his brother Robert to not idealize or enlarge his life work, but simply to remember him as a good man, I am sure Ted would want the same for him and his other siblings. For me, just as for millions of others in the world, this is impossible. Simply read some of the responses, from both sides of the political aisle, upon hearing the news of Kennedy’s death. He was the greatest senator of our time, and more importantly, he was a great and courageous man. He will join his brothers at Arlington National Cemetery, a fitting final resting spot. His legacy will live on forever in the hearts of Americans. He will be truly missed by all.

Senator Edward M. Kennedy

1932-2009