He was the smallest man on the football team at 140 pounds, but played like a tiger.

Ad, Erica’s grandfather, passed away this past Monday night. He had taken a turn for the worse about a week prior, and after a short trip to the hospital at the end of last week, he returned home to be comfortable through his final moments.

A recent soapbox of mine has been our response as Christians to these difficult times, our ability to mourn, and our ability to, as Paul says, mourn with those who mourn. Little did I know the opportunity to test what I’ve been preaching would come so soon.

I’ve come to realize that few people are close with their grandfathers these days. While I admire my grandfather very much, I wouldn’t consider myself close to him, and I’m sure many people my age can relate. But Ad was close to Erica, his only granddaughter, and she was close to him. While I don’t think he knew all that much about me, he decided early on that he liked me, and he cheered us on in just about everything we did. All this to say Ad held an important place in our lives, even in mine after only 7 or so years of knowing him. And he was indeed a special man, as you can tell by the deservingly-lengthy obiturary that was written by his eloquent-English-professor brother.

And this was really the first time I’ve experienced death so closely. My mind has been wheeling because of it, with things I won’t delve into here.

And so what does one say? What can be said to summarize a life or the rollercoasterofaweek that ends a life?

And I guess that’s one of the things I’ve been preaching lately. Nothing can be said, nothing should be said, and that’s ok.

And these cycles of life are striking, as during the time we were saying goodbye to Ad, Liz posted pictures of the beautiful little girl to whom they were saying hello; just like on the newspaper website, where the link for obituaries is right next to the link for births.