I received the awful news as many of us did, via a text Sunday morning. Hugh McKean had passed away. The sort of news that stuns, to which your first reaction is that you must have read that wrong. Then the icy realization that you hadn’t. Throughout the course of day, the details emerged. A heart attack. The first and final one.

By Monday morning it was clear from the public commentary, the official statements and the social media posts that he was an object of much affection. Certainly he was among everybody’s favorite person at the State Capitol, regardless of political affiliation. His good humor, good nature and good graces at times belied the cynical, cut-and-thrust world in which he dedicated his public life, and he was loved for it.

A great deal has been made about his clashes with the fringe of his party, partly because it is important, partly because such soap opera tweaks the voyeuristic nerves. But his main contribution was not one of confrontation, but of fusion – of coalescing an effective loyal opposition from a couple dozen individual elements whose personal political leanings lend them to rebel against collectivist enterprises. He resisted labels, however much others wished to label him. Moderate? Perhaps, depending on the accepted definition of the word, which is pretty fluid. He certainly embraced the very best that conservatism has to offer, in economics, social policy, role of government and other philosophical areas, but also in manners and morals. But he was never imprisoned by ideology. He believed, and fought vigorously for, what he did because he knew it to be right based on reason and analysis, not because it was a bullet point in some approved dogmatic scroll.

My own memories and experiences with him are as fond as the dozens that have been shared the past few days. I cannot recall a time when he brushed me off, or failed to respond or get back to me, despite the immense pressures on his schedule as House Minority Leader. He agreed without hesitation when I asked him to chair, along with fellow pilot and aviation enthusiast Rep. Alex Valdez, the General Aviation Caucus. It was an additional task that I’m sure he didn’t need to take on and, quite frankly, probably didn’t have time for, but did anyway; and only in part because aviation was one of his many passions.

It is said that some people have a talent for friendship, and that certainly applies to Leader McKean. There are few who knew him who would hesitate to call him a friend. It is not that he was profligate in offering his friendship, but that he was serious about it.

It seems rather indelicate crude, but there are, of course, new political considerations evolving in the wake of his passing, mostly concerning the leadership of the House Republicans and the direction they will now take. That will sort itself out in due course, the most that ought to be said at this point is that McKean left the ship in good order. He took exceptional pride in mentoring new Republican House candidates, shepherding them through a political process that almost seems purposely designed to generate the maximum amount of misery and despair possible. His advice and coaching were in line with what you expect of the man – not crass Machiavellian venom and hostility, but good humor and compassion. One of this year’s new Republican House candidates related her last conversation with McKean, during which she vented upon the latest frustration. His advice to her was: “Scream into a pillow for a bit and keep going. You got this!” Anyone who knew him can close their eyes and hear him saying those words, in that uplifting tone that was quintessentially his, accompanied by the gentle, infectious smile that seemed omnipresent. That’s not a bad legacy to leave.

Indeed, most men would be happy beyond measure to leave this world with one good legacy – Hugh McKean leaves several; his children, first and foremost, on whom he doted and was as proud as any father could be. Of his public legacies, the greatest one is his universality, his natural, unironic cooperative synergy, his ability to unite, and to love even his adversaries. He left this vale of tears too young, far, far too young, before any of us, his family especially, were ready. Perhaps it is fitting, in a cruel way, that he passed when he did, nine days before the election. For in that final week, with all of the vitriol and venom that is endemic to it, people of both parties, of all political stripes, will be united, however briefly, in grief and love for this good man. I think he would be pleased by that, and we miss him all the more for it.

Kelly Sloan is a political and public affairs consultant and a recovering journalist based in Denver.