More than a month has passed since the sudden and unexpected death of Tom Coughlin, most closely remembered and admired as the onetime vice chairman of Walmart.

Though a decade and a half has passed since Coughlin’s retirement, he is still much on the minds of those who knew him and worked with him. That he changed Walmart, improved it, made it more exciting and more productive, there can be no doubt. But the bigger question remains to be answered: How did he change a retailer that was already legendary? How did he improve a company that had already broken every barrier known to mass retailing?

Simply put, no one really knows the answers to these questions. The answer that first comes to mind — that he succeeded at every job he undertook — is too easy. It is true that Coughlin, given an assignment, seldom failed. And his few failures were dwarfed by his enormous successes. In reality he transformed Walmart by bringing to it intangibles that the retailer had never considered before.

Prior to Coughlin’s arrival in Bentonville, Ark. — he and his wife Cynthia had initially planned to stay for three years — the company owed its success to the talent and imagination of one person. Initially, that one person was founder Sam Walton. After Walton stepped back, that person was David Glass or Jack Shewmaker or another senior executive, depending on the time period. But Coughlin, alone or in combination with other senior managers, built an organizational structure, defined the working parts of that structure and, most importantly, filled that structure with incredibly competent managers and gave them the authority to carry out their assignments.

He did one other thing as well: He demonstrated a belief in the organization he helped develop by allowing that organization, and the people who staffed it, to do their jobs. In so doing he transformed the corporation from one led by a single individual to one with shared participation in decision making.

At Coughlin’s funeral in Bentonville, the church was filled with Walmart associates. Others in attendance — family, friends, business associates who had come to know Coughlin while they worked for a supplier or third party — were overshadowed by people who had earned Coughlin’s respect and admiration while they worked together at Walmart.

Very few people spoke at the funeral ceremony, and those who did appeared deferential or intimidated by the occasion. Coughlin’s son told, very effectively, what it was like growing up as his son. A longtime friend from Cleveland told about the leisure time he spent with the former Walmart vice chairman. Others briefly told snapshot stories about adventures they had shared with Coughlin.

But mostly the funeral was a solemn occasion, and individual attendees were left to remember and reminisce on their own, recalling minutes or hours or days spent doing business and sharing moments with the newly deceased. Those memories, while different, had much in common, mostly revolving around Coughlin’s thoughtfulness or kindness, time when he put himself or the corporation aside and concentrated instead on the person in his company and how he, Coughlin, could please or satisfy that person’s wishes.

Following the funeral, many attendees journeyed to the burial ground and said their final good-byes. The rest of the weekend unfolded uneventfully, punctuated by small gatherings and private moments, as those present tried, with a small story or a shared remembrance, to recall one more Coughlin kindness.

Then Sunday came — and the event ended, as people returned to their daily lives, only to share more stories and memories as the days passed and memories of the actual funeral and events surrounding it faded.

Today, almost two months after Coughlin died, what remains is the memory of the man, the leader, the executive who succeeded because he cared more about individuals than the company they worked for. In so doing, he made the company more important, more meaningful and more successful than it had yet been — and laid the groundwork for future successes, successes that can now only be imagined or dreamed of.