Don Charles Bramlett (September 23, 1944 – December 21, 2025), my Pa, is this very day with the Lord in that place where there is no afternoon or night—only a timeless eternity that knows no end. He was a loving, for-better-or-worse-till-death-do-us-part husband to my Meme, Joann Bramlett, whom he walked faithfully beside for 62 years. He was a tender and exemplary father to my aunt, Tina, and my dad, Greg. He was a beloved great grandfather to my niece Lexi, and Talyn, Kaysn, Jakob, and Paislee. But to me—he was my Pa. And I know I can speak for the other grandchildren when I saw that he was the best grandpa anyone could ever ask for—a grandfather who stood above the rest.

And there is a timeworn photograph (above) I didn’t even know existed until recently that says it all. Chelsea and I were sitting on his lap in front of the fireplace, and both of my hands are holding tightly onto his. And that is the story of me and Pa—all my life I have held his steady hand to show me the way in life. His loving hand was one of guidance and direction that have made me the man, husband, and Christian I am today—and I know I will be holding onto his hand when our baby boy is born, to show me how to be a dad. 

Like all of the grandkids and great grandkids, the first way Pa’s hand showed me what to do was when it came to fishing. This was one of his favorite hobbies, and was such, I believe, because he appreciated God’s wonderful handiwork in creating ponds, lakes, and fish for our enjoyment. And while I cannot remember exactly when he showed me how to tie a hook onto a line or put a worm on it, I see his face every time I do. When I was teaching our former foster son how to fish, he asked me why I licked the fishing line before twisting and tying it, and I was proud to tell him, “My Pa always did it this way.”

And while I was never as good a fisherman as he, I always wanted to make him proud and do the best I could. I remember one occasion, when fishing at Reelfoot Lake, which Kailey was not too fond of, he told me, “Don’t take your eyes off them poles. If they move, grab them.” And I took it literally. For two and a half days, my eyes were glued to the spider-rigged poles in the front of the boat. And since we had no mirror in the camper, I only learned when I got home that evidently, your eyes can be sunburned. I had two perfectly red lines in both of my eyes from staring at the lake all day, just trying to make my Pa proud.

I also see his face every time I strive to be the man God has called me to be, because Pa was the example of manhood. I can remember one time, when I was a wayward and mostly worthless preteen, he came over to help my dad put insulation in the attic. I was lazy and didn’t want to help. And he came into my bedroom and said firmly but gently, “Brandon, men work. Get out here and help me and your daddy.” That sentence stuck with me. That was a defining moment. I had never seen the relationship between work and manhood until that moment. And although I was a bit itchy afterwards, we got the job done together.

I also see his face every time I try to be an exemplary Christian, because he was certainly one of the best. I can remember him presenting me with one of the first Christian books I ever received as a new believer. And he told me to read it and stick with it, because he wished he could read. He was like that—always wanting you to be better than he was. It takes a special man in a world of competition to want you to turn out better than him.

I listened to him. And because of that book and my Pa’s counsel to keep reading, I am the Christian, pastor, and author I am today.

And I see my Pa every time I think about cultivating humility. I have never known anyone in my life as humble as he was. He was a man of few words because he spoke much louder through his actions, and both his words and actions were always very humble. He was especially a great example of what it means to humble yourself before God that He may exalt you.

Each time I would preach about Christ during the many sermons he made sure to attend, and each time we would sing hymns in church, I would see him cry. And those tears were tears of overwhelming joy and gratitude that Christ came into the world for him—humility. And all of us would be better believers if we cherished Christ as much as Pa did. 

And that is the most important thing I can tell you about my Pa. He believed in Christ. At some point in his life, good as he was, he realized he was a sinner who needed a Savior. He knew he couldn’t work his way into heaven or do anything good to be made right in the sight of a holy God. Realizing this, he put all of his faith and trust in Christ and His finished work on the cross. At that moment, Pa’s sins were forgiven, his name was written in heaven, and he was born again. 

And it is that very fact that gives believers the greatest comfort in our grief. If you come to Jesus for salvation, just as Pa did, then you are not saying, “Goodbye.” If you possess eternal life by believing upon Jesus Christ, then you can confidently say, “Pa, I’ll be seeing you again” (1 Thess. 4:13-14).

And the promise of our Lord Jesus in John 14 is what my Pa believed: 

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:1-6).

And on the early morning of December 21, Jesus put all the finishing touches on Pa’s heavenly home, and it was time for him to settle in. Jesus prepared a place in heaven for him because he prepared a place in his heart for Jesus.

And Pa hung onto life for a long time, and I said, “His crowns aren’t ready yet. With all the crowns he will be receiving, it must be taking a while to get them all done.” And how humbling it is to know that the moment he was crowned in heaven for his faithfulness on earth, he laid those crowns at the feet of the King of kings and Lord of lords. How wonderful it is to know that the moment Pa took his final breath on earth, he took his very first breath of heaven’s perfect air. How precious it is to know that Pa is singing, at this very moment, “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain to receive honor, power, and glory.” Although, if animals do go to heaven and fish and deer are there, too—they may not have very nice things to say.

“I Held Your Hand.”

All my life, I held onto your steady hand

Teaching me to fish, hunt, and how to be a man.

You were my example, my inspiration, and my Pa.

I learned from you, yes, from what you said, but more from what I saw. 

I see your face when I tie fishing line through a hole,

I see your face when I patiently fish for souls.

You taught me how to be a father who provides,

How to be a husband who loves his bride. 

You taught me to be a Christian, humble and of few words

Showing me a heart that sticks close to the God of the word.

I am thankful I got to hold your hand on earth one last time,

But I am more thankful to know you heard from Jesus, “This one is Mine.”

Because you placed your hand in the one that is nail-scarred, believing in Christ for your salvation,

I know I will one day raise my hands to Jesus with you in the new creation.

Until we meet again in that holy land,

Pa, I’ll keep on holding your hand.