On discovering I had as magnificently heroic a human being as this in my ancestry—and on top of that, a saint (how many people on the planet are aware they have a familial connection to one of these?)—I felt extremely fortunate to have even the smallest chance that some tiny fragment of his DNA might have been passed on to me.
 
At the same time, I felt profoundly unworthy of this good fortune.  With that went a feeling of duty to properly honor him—especially since he’s someone who the vast majority of people today have never heard of, and should.  In addition, I had a sense of obligation to carry forward his legacy, in whatever small way I could.  This might be by passing it on genetically, or by making good use of any characteristics I might be fortunate enough to have inherited from him.

---