Page 48 - MNLGA Free State Winter 2025

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I believe he’s in heaven.

When he showed up, I picture Herman Panacek, a very close friend of his, meeting him at the gates and
immediately launching into all the landscaping changes they need to make. Because, of course, they’re
going to make heaven more beautiful. If you knew these two, you would understand.
I see my Grandmom and Grammy there too, smiling, telling them,

“Boys, this is already a beautiful place. Go, relax, and enjoy yourselves.”
I see a Grady White with the engines running. Uncle Don, Uncle Jim, Uncle Jack, Uncle Carl, and Uncle
Ray are already on board, waiting for him, asking what took him so long. That boat is rolling out of Bar-
negat Inlet, maybe Shark River, or cutting through Little Egg Inlet, chasing tuna or drifting the backwaters
to pick off a bunch of fluke. The rods are ready, the cooler is packed, and the water is just right. That’s
their heaven.
I see a Bronco with the tailgate down, a pile of geese laid across it, his dog Mooney, and my Pop Pop
standing there, grinning after a great hunt. And I see that same cast of characters from the boat, now
huddled in a blind, swapping stories about the good old days. Or maybe they’re just coming in for lunch
after sitting quietly in a tree stand all morning, waiting for that perfect shot. It’s the kind of scene that only
made sense in his world, where friendship, tradition, and the outdoors all came together.

That’s the kind of heaven I believe in.
And I know, one day, I’ll join them. But for now, I’ll keep writing my story—and I’ll see his story continue in
the people around me.
I see his love of hunting and fishing in his nephews, Mike and Sean. I’ll see it in Martin, William, Ben, and
his grandson Will—whether they’re out in a tree, sitting in the blind, or just telling stories about the one
that got away.

I see his deep love for this country—and unwavering sense of duty—reflected in his granddaughter, Me-
gan, as she walks her own path of service.
I see his passion for horticulture in his nephew, Jason, who shares the same care for growing things that
my dad held close from the age of 14.
His story lives on in all of us.

So today, let’s not mourn the end. Let’s celebrate the chapters. Let’s remember that his story is not just
written in books or photos—it’s written in us. It lives on in the lessons he taught, the values he passed on,
and the lives he touched.
So to all of you. Write your story. Own your story. Be proud of your story. It’s yours to write!

Thank you.
Pastor Rev. Caitlan Gartlan

48 WINTER 2025 • Free State News