One year ago, today, my grandpa passed away on Easter morning, April 12th 2020. Growing up in the same state and less than an hour away from him and my grandma, I got to see him frequently and had all sorts of memories with him, but after moving out of state for graduate school our visits became less frequent in recent years.

He was humble and loving to everyone he met. He was a painter, pastor and church planter, and even in retirement blessed all kinds of people with his wisdom and faith. He was an avid artist, fisherman, carpenter and bird watcher. He could tell stories that would make you laugh, cry and praise the Lord. He loved my grandma for nearly 65 years and leaves behind a huge legacy, especially with his family.

On a hike in March of 2020, right as the world was first shutting down from COVID, I heard a bird’s song that was familiar, but I couldn’t identify it. I took a video of it, thinking Grandpa would be able to identify it because of his love of birds. When I went home as COVID shut things down, I showed my grandpa the video and he quickly identified it as a Carolina Wren. He told me he and an old friend thought the Carolina Wren’s song sounded like an inquisitive parishioner saying “Preacher! Preacher!” which was always funny considering Grandpa’s role at the pulpit.

That day, April 9th, was the last time I saw my grandpa before his passing on Easter Sunday three days later. That Easter morning, my mom (my grandpa’s daughter), and I were on the roof of our house watching the sunrise, and while we specifically prayed for Grandpa’s peace and health on that Easter day, we saw dozens of birds and even heard the song of the Carolina Wren. Later that day when we went to see Grandpa upon news of his passing, feeling heartbroken at the loss and crying in his living room, I once again heard the Carolina Wren’s song, sounding like it was right outside, like Jesus was reminding me that Grandpa found that peace and now is with the Lord singing songs of praise to his Creator. That night, I wrote this poem.

Why do you still sing, Carolina Wren?
“Preacher, Preacher, Preacher, Preacher,” he’s gone.
The sky is heavy, yet your song goes on
Though the preacher has left this world of men.
Perhaps you sing to remember when
He’d worship the Lord in landscapes he’d drawn
And proclaim His name at the break of dawn,
Or maybe you sing as his last amen.

All his life, he lived to show men the way
To the Savior above this earth we roam;
A way of life, grace, mercy and shalom.
Angels are singing on this Easter Day,
All around the throne you can hear them say:
“Preacher, Preacher, Preacher, Preacher, you’re home.”