good friday

My husband and I are back from our trip. In a word? Amazing. More on that soon. But tonight, a few thoughts on my grandpa, who passed away yesterday.

In my mind, my grandpa will always be 72. When I was ten, I helped my Aunt decorate his birthday cake, and I remember counting out 72 candles. I laughed and laughed as we carried it out—the whole thing was on fire! My grandpa laughed too, and from that day on, every time someone asked me how old my grandpa was, I told them he was “72.”

My grandpa was my cheerleader. For a variety of reasons, it took me ten years to finish college. I was almost embarrassed to invite people to my graduation and almost skipped it altogether. But he was so proud of me. He hugged me tight and cheered loudly, “Way to go, kid!”

He was a college professor, conductor, husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and friend. At 96, he planned to play the organ for the Good Friday service at the retirement community he and grandma lived in. He passed away peacefully on Good Friday, with my grandma and two of his children by his side.

I’m sad for my grandma, who has lost her companion of 63 years, but I’m thrilled for my grandpa. Imagine—Easter in heaven! Just think of the celebration! Is he playing the organ? Conducting the choir? Just sitting with Jesus, relishing his new, heavenly body? And he can hear! After all of these years with crummy, screeching hearing aids, my grandpa can finally hear.

On Easter morning as I celebrate the resurrection of my Lord, I thank Him for the life He gives us—both here and eternally. Oh, the hope we have in Christ. He is risen!