The journey from the Pacific coast to the rolling hills of North Carolina is a long one, but not too long ago, the miles felt heavier than usual. I wasn’t just traveling across time zones; I was traveling toward a version of my world that had been fundamentally altered. My grandfather—Donald VanSteen, the man I called my “Papa Don”—has passed away.
When the news reached me, I felt my heart shatter in three distinct directions:
- For myself: To lose the patriarch of our family and a man I viewed as the gold standard of what it means to be a human being.
- For my Mother: To witness her lose a father she wasn’t ready to let go of.
- For my Grandmother, “Mawmaw”: To watch the woman who built the foundation of our family lose her other half—the man whose blood runs through my veins and whose life was inextricably woven into hers.
A Legacy of Devotion
Papa Don was the genuine definition of a man. His reputation wasn’t built on loud declarations, but on the quiet, steady rhythm of his character. He was respected by the community and cherished by his family. But perhaps his most profound sermon was the way he loved my grandmother, Polly.
He was selflessly and dutifully devoted to her, attending to her every need without a moment’s hesitation. Seeing that kind of love up close sets a high bar; it teaches you that true strength isn’t found in what you take from the world, but in how much of yourself you give to the person you love.
Light in the Pitch Black
Tuesday, we gathered at the funeral home for the first viewing. Standing beside Mawmaw in that quiet, heavy room, I expected to witness a grief that demanded answers from the heavens. I expected the “why?” that usually accompanies such a devastating loss.
Instead, I witnessed a masterclass in faith.
As Mawmaw stood before her soulmate, the words that left her lips were not questions, but gratitude. In the midst of a pitch-black night of uncertainty, she chose to find the light:
- She thanked God for giving him to us in the first place.
- She thanked God for his mercy in ending Papa Don’s suffering.
- She thanked God for the blessings he bestowed upon our family through him.
Watching her, I saw God’s sweet, enveloping grace take form. While the rest of us were drowning in the “loss,” Mawmaw was swimming in the “legacy.” She reminded me that even in our darkest moments, there is a grace that sustains us—a grace that ensures God won’t lead us to a place He hasn’t already prepared us to handle.
A Final Reflection
To my Mawmaw: I hope you know the depth of the respect and gratitude I have for you. You have taught me many lessons over the years, but none more poignant than the one you taught me today over Papa Don’s casket. You showed me that even when your heart is broken, your spirit can remain whole through thankfulness.
Papa Don may be gone, but the foundation he and Mawmaw built is unshakable. I carry his blood, but I hope to carry her perspective—finding the “thank you” even through the tears.
“God shows grace in many ways, and He won’t lead us to a place in our lives that He hasn’t already prepared us for.” -Mitchell
Blank Space & Polaroids 
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