Pawpaw was never late. For holiday gatherings, right on time; for reunions, perpetually punctual; for sporting events, in his seat with ease before tip-off. Pawpaw was never late, until last night.

My family has just received the somber news that the finest man (superlatives could go on infinitely) I’ve had the pleasure of coming into contact with has died–my Pawpaw, Charles Eldridge.

Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. 

The sense of humor–delightful; the patience shown to all of his (at times, rambunctious) grandchildren–immeasurable; the love he showed to his wife–exemplary; the godly selflessness he was always willing to exhibit to those in need of aid–unmatched. 

The one story out of many which stands out is the time he and my father fell off of our roof while attempting to fix some shingles. Ten seconds later, along with ten broken bones, he swiftly rushed to check on my father, and then uttered immortal words to the effect of, “Let’s go ahead and finish the roof. We can head to the hospital later.” 

We grieve, but not as ones without hope, for Pawpaw is a follower of the Way, the Truth and the Life; Pawpaw is a disciple of the One who is not the God of the dead, but of the living.

If my dad, my brother, and I can become a measly tenth of the man you were Pawpaw, what men we shall be.