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It was raining in State College on Monday. Not the type of rain that just so happened to be cascading down as Noah and Allie shared a passionate kiss in "The Notebook." Instead, it's a slow drizzle as if Mother Nature is crying alongside the Penn State community mourning the death of Joe Paterno.

I know how ridiculous and aggrandizing that sounds. Mother Nature is simply a false personification of nature rooted in Greek mythology. Weather (in this case rain) is created through a series of pressures, fronts and other things I do not pretend to know anything about. And Joe Paterno was a football coach who passed as an impeccably accomplished 85-year-old man who died Sunday of complications from lung cancer having lived a complete, fulfilling life.

These are all facts, but they don't change the feelings of the 45,000 kids on the University Park campus, most of whom are wearing white in Paterno's honor today.

Credit: Andrew Weber-US PRESSWIRE

We feel heartbroken, like our favorite grandfather has passed — the one who would always slip you a $20 bill when your parents weren't looking as a kid, who took you fishing and told you stories that would make your grandmother blush, who taught you how to be a man.

Paterno was a legend and a hero to almost all 500,000 living Penn State alumni.

Joe taught us how to be a university, a community, rooted in integrity and family values. He taught his players that success without honor is failure. He was loyal until the very end to his wife, Sue, to their modest house on McKee Street in State College and to Penn State, a university which was little more than pasture and some buildings when Paterno arrived here in 1950.

The university grew at the same rapid rate as Paterno's legend until the latter came to a thunderous crash on November 5 when former Penn State defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky was charged on 40 counts of sexually assaulting eight boys both on and around Penn State grounds.

When grand jury testimony was released, it came to light that former assistant coach Mike McQueary came to Paterno in 2002 with disturbing news about witnessing what he believed to be Sandusky sexually assaulting a young boy. The details are murky about what exactly McQueary told Paterno, but whatever he was told re-wrote the first sentence of Paterno's legacy (and now obituary) forever.

Upon news of Joe's death, many were eager to blame factors outside of simple biology for his death. Those more rational among us know what Paterno died of lung cancer, and nothing more.

Paterno, who was once just as revered nationally as he was locally, (understandably) became the subject of harsh national criticism. Many wondered whether sweet, bespectacled JoePa was nothing but an enabler of a child rapist too worried about his legacy and the institution of Penn State football to follow up on deplorable allegations. According to Paterno's interview with the Washington Post's Sally Jenkins, he wished he had done more. And according to anyone with an IQ, he should have done more.

Upon news of Joe's death, many were eager to blame factors outside of simple biology for his death. Many made Paterno out to be a martyr, saying he died of a broken heart caused by the Board of Trustees' decision. Others blamed the media for raking Paterno over the coals, causing unneeded stress on his 85-year-old frame.

Those more rational among us know what Paterno died of lung cancer, and nothing more. We know that the "#legendsneverdie" Twitter trend is little more than a coping mechanism for our heartbreak. We know that death does not heal all wounds and mistakes, that Paterno's legacy is permanently harmed for his partial responsibility for the nine years of undeserved freedom awarded to Jerry Sandusky between 2002 and 2011. We also know there will come a time where Joe Paterno will not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think about Penn State, just as John Wooden is no longer the first thing you think about when someone mentions UCLA.

But today is sure as hell not that day.

On Thursday, most students will be seen skipping classes in order to attend a 2 p.m. memorial service in Paterno's honor at Penn State's Bryce Jordan Center. Tears will be shed, alma maters will be sung, all in honor of our fallen and flawed hero.

Legends may die, but Joe Paterno's spirit lives on. We are.