The Greatest Thing We’ve Lost

“Remembering a man’s stories makes him immortal, did you know that?” – Daniel Wallace, Big Fish

Over time, the legend of my grandfather, Mike Merold, slowly evolved from hometown folklore into myth. And the tales woven of his glory days and indomitable exploits seemed to me as though they should have been framed in the Smithsonian. 

Passing away sixteen years ago unexpectedly from a heart attack when I was seven years old, I knew I had lost something precious. 

It felt as though I had lost a very old and very good friend. 

But, as cliche as it sounds, there are certain things that time cannot change, things that linger on, sixteen years later. 

Such as the memory of the day we found out he was gone, or the day of his funeral when hundreds and hundreds of people kept coming through the church doors to say their goodbyes, and how the funeral procession was miles and miles long.

Or how, even years later, people at his home church are still sharing the impact his life had on them so joyously and unabashedly.

Stories of how he would depart the comfort of his own home in the middle of the night to see a family whose child was sick in the hospital, bringing with him a box of Dairy Queen Dilly Bars just to make that little kid smile. 

Stories of how his reckless youth led him to ride his motorcycle down the hallway of his high school. 

Stories, that even I got to share a fragment of, such as the infamous night at Journey to Bethlehem. 

Stories that remind me of what we have in common, such as how restless he was; how he could never sit still, needed to go for a drive and get a Coke when the daylight was burning away.

He never wasted a moment.  

Stories that take a life of their own. 

But through these stories, and through memories, I’ve gotten to know him over the years; and the more I’ve gotten to know him, like how he believed every house should just be decadently and grossly decorated for Christmas, the more I realize how much he’s missed, how much I wish he could’ve seen, how much time we could’ve had. 

But here are three things I’ve gathered and learned about life from him.

Become Someone People Can Rely On

The summer I interned at his home church in the Midwest, I learned that his life and actions were still impacting the community to that day. Known for paving the way at their home church for what a “Care Pastor” is, my grandpa was notorious for showing up when it was most needed; whether that be midnight hospital visits, community outreach, church events, or something else. Where there was a need, there he was.

I learned, that even years and years later, they were still modeling their “Care Team” around the actions, qualities, and abilities he had portrayed in that role before them, even speaking of him by name as their role model. 

I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder. 

People need people. They’re the best thing to ever happen to us. And he knew this.

“Keep on loving one another as brothers and sisters. Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.” – Hebrews 13:1-2

Do Everything In Love

If he was good for anything, it was a laugh. And what better legacy to leave behind than by being remembered and known for brightening a day, getting someone to double over with laughter until their belly aches, to be able to remember not all the ways in which we are sad, but to know all the ways in which he made us joyful. 

He brought a room together with a well-timed joke; he left a family of stories that will continue to be passed on for generations about love and humility and kingdom work. 

“I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.” – Ephesians 4:1-3

Spread the Word

When people think of him, there is no doubt they see a strong man of God. Someone who fought the good fight, and dedicated his life to the service of the Lord, who, when gone, did not cast a shadow of a doubt in anyone’s mind as to where he went. 

He’s taught me, and so many others, to not just believe and hope and pray to a God when things are going right, but to do all these things when everything’s going wrong. 

“But the Lord stood at my side and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed and all the Gentiles might hear it. And I was delivered from the lion’s mouth.” – 2 Timothy 4:17

Maybe in another universe, he got to see me turn eight, and then eventually make it to double digits, and then hit all the big ones, including sixteen, eighteen, and twenty-one … and maybe even get to see me turn from twenty-three to twenty-four. 

Maybe in another universe, he got to see me grow up to become an accomplished athlete. 

Maybe in another universe, he got to see my little brother turn twenty, and be offered even bigger volleyball scholarships than myself. 

Maybe in another universe, he got to see his son, Josh, receive his Master’s Degree. We know he would’ve been so proud of him.

Maybe in another universe, Gram didn’t have to send me his old worn Flo’s Cafe pullover because he would still be around to wear it. 

Maybe in another universe, he got to see how much his stories inspired me to go write my own. 

Maybe in another universe, he got to see me become a published writer. 

Maybe in another universe, I wouldn’t have to feel cheated out of so much time. 

Maybe in another universe, there was more time, and more moments, and more memories, and more stories. 

Maybe in another universe, he wasn’t the greatest thing we lost. 

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day – and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.” – 2 Timothy 4:7-8