When somebody dies, common decency dictates that their past indiscretions should be set aside out of respect for the living more so than for the deceased.
Allowing a family to grieve after the passing of a loved one gives us all a time of reflection where we remember those that have gone and examine our own place in life.
For the most part, we live ordinary lives. As we grow older, we try to do the right things. And when our time has come, hopefully we can say, "Through all the ups and downs it was a good life."
But what if your life was far from ordinary? What if you were considered a deity -- an individual so revered that the mention of your name elicits the accolades of young and old, men and women, friend and foe?
Joe Paterno was one such individual. By all accounts, he was a devoted husband, a loving father, a loyal employee, a mentor of young men, a charitable soul who had all his priorities in order and, yes, a great football coach -- an individual that many admired, but few could emulate.
Paterno was everything that was right about college football. His teams were sound athletically and academically, and their adherence to a strict moral and ethical code placed Penn State a notch above most college programs -- some that always seemed to be dodging NCAA rules and regulations.
It didn't get much better than JoePa. His legendary appearance of coke-bottle glasses, a thicket of jet black hair (as his face became older) was classic.
On Oct. 29, 2011, when his Nittany Lions beat Illinois 10-7, it was Paterno's 409th career victory, making him the winningest coach in Division I history -- a tribute to a man that dedicated his life to Penn State University.
One week later, Paterno's world came crashing down when his longtime assistant coach Jerry Sandusky was arrested on 40 counts of sexually abusing eight young boys over a 15-year period.
When Paterno was informed of the accusations against Sandusky in 2002, Paterno reportedly informed his superiors but never followed up.
Sandusky, who retired in 1999 from Penn State, was still allowed to use the university's facilities and was a fixture around the football building.
As long as Sandusky's story remains unresolved, the last chapter of Paterno's life will never be written, even though he died Sunday at age 85.
Questions remain about what Paterno knew, when he actually knew it and why he didn't go to the police.
Was Paterno an elderly gentleman who couldn't grasp Sandusky's alleged perversions or was Paterno a power-driven egomaniac who engineered a cover-up to protect himself, his image and legacy?
We might never know the truth.
Growing older changes your perspective. The lines between good and bad and right and wrong become blurred. The world isn't broken down into black and white. Our world and our lives are shades of gray.
With his passing many have issued glowing statements about Paterno's positive impact on their lives, his sport and our nation.
There is little doubt that Paterno touched many lives, but I can't help feeling that the lives he touched most profoundly are the alleged victims of Jerry Sandusky.
When the boys needed the coach to step up and do the right thing, Paterno remained silent. There's nothing gray about that.
