Most people have focused on my brother's accomplishments as a patriot and as a political leader, but I want to talk to you about Jorge as an individual, who he was as a man, a father, a husband, a brother, a good son, a great friend, a faithful Catholic, a sinner, an individual with his share of human frailties, but above all a man who loved life, who loved both his native Cuba and his adopted country and who lived every moment of his short 58 years as if there were no tomorrow.

Many people say that his greatest legacy is the Foundation and what it represents, an institution dedicated to restoring freedom in Cuba, which I have no doubt will carry on the struggle with renewed dedication and effort. But to focus on Jorge exclusively as a political figure would be a great injustice. Jorge was much more than that.

To me, his greatest legacy can be found in a number of places, beginning with his family, his loving wife Irma, his three magnificent boys: Jorge, Juan Carlos, and Jose Ramon, anyone of whom individually would make any father intensely proud and who have thus far blessed him with four wonderful grandchildren and a fifth still to come.

Jorge managed to generate intense loyalty and love among those he considered his friends. In the Bible, Jesus tells us that ''Greater love hath no one than this: that he lay down his life for his friends.'' Jorge was the type of person who would have gladly laid down his own life for the sake of a good friend, not to mention his beloved Cuba.

And as I look out onto this crowd, I see the faces of dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of individuals who would have gladly done the same for him, who would have gladly accepted his suffering without hesitation. That, my friends, is greatness, indeed.

Aside from his friends, Jorge managed to generate warmth and affection in practically everyone he came in contact with. He felt as comfortable dealing with a head of state as he did with a common laborer in one of his many companies. One evening he'd be at a gala dinner, and the next day he'd delight in sharing a good chivo or rabo encendido with someone who brought it to work in a cantina.

I can tell you as a fact that Jorge preferred those simple, home-cooked meals with his employees, or with his friends or his family, more than anything else.

Last night I had an opportunity to walk among the long lines of people waiting patiently to view his mortal remains. I was particularly impressed with the number of elderly people who traveled from all over and stood quietly while waiting to pay their respects.

Older people have a special wisdom that comes with experience. They've been around the block a few times and have learned to separate the real from the fluff. They have the ability to see things in perspective, taking into account both the good and the bad. To see so many of them was indeed touching. Perhaps they recognized my brother for what he truly was: a great man, an imperfect man, but one who was the genuine article, whose convictions were real, whose passion for a free and democratic Cuba knew no bounds.

I heard a number of comments from the people, which I would like to read from the press.

Many people commented on the irony of his short life, on how he didn't get to see a free Cuba, on how he ''lost his life at such a young age.'' Let's talk about that.

In his short life, Jorge lived the type of life that most people can only dream of. He was an inspired patriot, a self-made millionaire, a wonderful father, a great son and brother, a philanthropist, a faithful servant of God.

Do not lament his short lifetime. Give thanks for the life he led, a full life, always at full throttle, never looking back. Jorge didn't lose his life; he gave his life. He gave it to what he most believed in: the restoration of freedom and democracy in the land he loved -- his beloved Cuba. And while he did not get to see a free Cuba in his mortal life, I am sure that he eventually will see it from above.

I have no doubt in my mind that he's up there right now, lobbying God himself for the freedom of Cuba. The irony of Jorge's death will always serve to make Cuba eventual freedom even sweeter. Look closely in the months ahead, for I'm sure you'll see Castro's beard becoming mas canosa.

Do not lament the fact that his life is over, while that tyrant still lives on this earth. Remember the words of Saint Augustin: ''Faith maintains this principle and we must believe it: Neither the soul nor the body suffers complete annihilation. The wicked rise again for punishment beyond imagination, while the good rise for everlasting life.''

To all of you who have suffered with us during this difficult period: Accept the suffering with joy. Remember how in Romans, chapter five, we are told: ''Let us rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance character, and character hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.''

Let us move forward -- adelante, adelante, adelante -- with the power and the strength of the Holy Spirit on our side.

I want to tell you a few things about Jorge's death, because it is said that until the day of one's death no one can be sure of one's courage. If that's the case, then I can assure you that Jorge's death, like his life, was courageous indeed. He kept his illness a secret, not wanting to worry us, certainly not wanting to affect the work of the Foundation. He attended to the needs of others, including myself, even though he was in great pain and slowly dying.

I remember one moment in particular, sitting in his living-room, when he mentioned his pain and suffering and he said to me: ''After all God has given me, I accept this pain willingly and offer it as a sacrifice to Him.'' He was a good Catholic to the end, well aware that, while it's good for Man to gain the whole world, what good is it if you lose the worth of your very self.

I spoke earlier of his common touch. It was evident, even in his death, that he kept his ability to generate warmth and affection among all. In those last few hours, as his heart slowly faded as we watched the monitor, we'd watch it go down and then suddenly come back up again to 75, 80 beats a minute. And his nurse, Elizabeth, who had been at his side all that time and who's here with us today, said to me: ''What someone wouldn't give for a heart like that!''

Elizabeth, if you only knew the half of it -- the heart that man had!

After he died, his gardener, Israel, came to pay his last respects. I said to him: ''I can't look after you anymore, but someone else surely will.''

I know that my brother had his critics. People liked to fault him for what he did or didn't do, but I don't think anyone can doubt his sincerity or patriotism. And I would like to leave you with something to remember him by, some words that were spoken by a very famous American patriot early in the century, 1910, a president by the name of Teddy Roosevelt. He wrote: ''It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or how his deeds could have been done better. The credit actually belongs to the man who's actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust, sweat and mud, who strives valiantly, errs and comes up short again and again. There is no effort without error and shortcomings.

''Who actually does strive to do the deeds, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who suspends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while faring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.''

Goodbye, dear brother. I would tell you to rest in peace, but I know you're up there fighting for all of us. I love you.