Today was bittersweet.  We laid to rest my grandfather, Rodney Hanson.

I didn’t know my grandfather very well because we lived so far from each other.  I’ve always known he was a really special man, but in the vague way that children are only peripherally aware of grownups.

At Grandpa’s funeral service today, I thought about how physicists can’t directly observe certain types of particles, but they can learn a lot by observing the effect they have on the matter around them. Grandpa is sort of like this for me; I didn’t know him well, but one look at the stellar human beings who shared his life tells me a lot about what kind of man he was.

By all accounts, my grandfather wasn’t much of a talker, but his actions and the impact he had on those around him paint a picture of a man who made the world a better place for everyone who had the privilege of sharing even a small amount of time with him.   For those fortunate enough to share their lives with him, his actions not only made the world better, they made people better.  Today I kept hearing the same thing over and over:  “I’m a better person for having known him.”  This was said by nearly everyone who attended, in one way or another.  For one man to mean that much to so many fills me with awe.

Grandpa and Grandma raised four daughters who all became world-class mothers themselves.  (I include my grandmother because their lives were so intertwined it’s impossible to talk about one without including the other.)  I wasn’t around to directly observe how they parented their girls,  of course, but I know that I am a beneficiary of the life these two people led.  Together, they modeled what it means to be good human beings and they succeeded in producing four incredible women.  All the kids in my generation are so very lucky to have been raised by these women.  Hopefully we will be capable of raising yet another generation of incredible people, and Grandpa’s life can continue to ripple through many generations to come.

My cousin Betsy recently gave birth to Grandpa’s 12th great-grandchild, a beautiful little boy named Lewis.  Since Grandpa served during WWII, he received a military ceremony at his internment site.  When the guns fired for the salut, baby Lewis was startled out of a deep sleep and began to scream.  It was a poignant moment; we were burying the ashes of one deeply loved man while listening to the cries of a deeply loved new baby boy who is just now at the beginning of his life’s journey.  Lewis will never know his great-grandfather, but he will benefit from that wonderful man’s life just the same.  My children, too, with their heads bowed in front of his urn, are unknowing beneficiaries.

Grandpa was 92 when he passed away.  He lived a life most of us aspire to, filled with goodness and love. His funeral was sad, as all funerals are, but people spent far more time happily talking about Grandpa than crying over him.  Even in death, he managed to bring people together for reconnection, and added even more strength to the bonds in an already strong family that he helped create.

Grandpa will be missed, certainly … but he lived a most exemplary life, and that is anything but sad.  He did it right.

Soldier presenting the flag to Grandma

Brian placing a wreath on the gravesite.

A final farewell to Grandpa.