For Pépère

My grandfather wasn’t famous. But he was special to my family, and he was special to God. Even when the world cannot, God will remember my pépère.

No one ever opens a history book expecting to read about Gerard E. Lallier.

Over the course of his life, my grandfather—my pépère—never did anything that the world took note of. He made no discovery, designed no invention, took no action that made the world stop and pay attention. His death went unnoticed by billions of busy people who never knew him. For them, it was a day like any other.

But not for me. Not for my family. For us, it was a day of pain and grief and sorrow.

For the last three years of his life, we watched Pépère waste away. A heart attack came and took what was left of his vivacity, and from there it was a continual decline. The last time I went home to visit, he was almost a shadow—an emaciated man frustrated with living and scared of dying. But that wasn’t the man I knew.

The man I knew

The man I knew served in the Third Infantry Division during World War II—one of the few divisions to fight the Axis powers on every European front. He was there on the day Dachau, one of Germany’s most infamous concentration camps, was liberated. The man I knew discovered two barns full of enemy soldiers and took them captive without firing a single gunshot. His interest in farms led him to explore one toward the war’s conclusion—and when a local woman pointed worriedly at her barn, he opened the doors to find a group of German soldiers, armed but tired of fighting. They gave up peacefully and (after a quick stop to discover another enemy-filled barn) followed my pépère back to camp. And the man I knew came home from the terrors of the Second World War; married a beautiful, young woman; and started a family.

But those are just stories I’ve heard. I didn’t come along until his family grew and he became a loving grandfather with two grandchildren. Then came the stories I remember.

I remember carousel rides and jigsaw puzzles. I remember visiting the zoo and feeding the ducks. I remember playing games, never realizing that the pair of eyes racing me to finish a word search was the same pair of eyes that had witnessed the horrors of war and the depths of human cruelty. There were so many of his stories I never heard, and now I feel I’m fighting to hold on to the ones I do have. Details, like the sound of his voice or the expressions on his face, are slipping away like sand through the cracks of my fingers—the tighter I try to hold on, the quicker they seem to disappear.

Though we may forget, God remembers

Toward the end of his life, Pépère marked a particular scripture in his Bible—where Job, finally worn down from Satan’s onslaught, cries out, “Oh, that You would hide me in the grave, that You would conceal me until Your wrath is past, that You would appoint me a set time, and remember me!” (Job 14:13, emphasis added).

In the margin beside those words, my pépère had scrawled in big, capital letters, “OH BOY JOY.” Job knew that, even when his life had ended and he was laid to rest in a grave, he would not be forgotten by his Creator. He continued, asking, “If a man dies, shall he live again? All the days of my hard service I will wait, till my change comes. You shall call, and I will answer You; You shall desire the work of Your hands” (Job 14:14-15).

My grandfather never found a place in history’s hall of fame—but to a small handful of hearts, he was special. Preserved in those hearts is Pépère’s life story, contained in memories like my own. But as time marches on, there will be fewer and fewer of us to carry that memory, all while more and more of the details slip away from those of us who remain. Little by little, our memories will lose their sharpness and begin to fade—until the day, many years from now, when no one alive remembers my grandfather. One day, Gerard E. Lallier will be forgotten.

But I take comfort in knowing this: While I struggle to remember details, the tiniest circumstance will not be forgotten by God. Even when the last of us who can remember him breathe our last, his memory will not perish—because Gerard E. Lallier is not now, nor will he ever be, forgotten by his Creator.

The things my pépère witnessed in World War II stayed with him his entire life. He often talked about what he’d seen and done during that time—sometimes laughing at tales of misadventure, other times holding back tears during a story too painful to finish.

God fulfills His promises

I spoke at Pépère’s funeral. I think it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It’s gut-wrenching in a way words cannot express to stand in front of the lifeless body of a loved one, knowing you’ll never see him again in this life, and try to communicate to a roomful of people how much this person meant to you and how much he means to God. But I thought a lot about the promises God gives us at the end of Revelation. I thought about “the dead, small and great, standing before God” (Revelation 20:12) and having their eyes opened to the truth for the very first time. I thought about God personally wiping away “every tear from their eyes” (Revelation 21:4) and how different things will be then.

When Pépère wakes up, the world is going to be a different place than when he fell asleep. There won’t be any more of the horrors and suffering that we see in the world today that have caused people such pain. When God calls Gerard E. Lallier out from his grave, he won’t be the man I saw waste away for three years as he lost his will to live. He will be the grandfather I remember and love, and for the very first time he will be seeing what the world was always supposed to be.

And he won’t be the only one. Countless billions of men, women, and children who never had their eyes truly opened to God’s incredible plan will awake again in a world where everything is finally as it was always meant to be. They will understand in a way they never understood before, and we will be there to help in a way we never could before.

This was not the end of Pépère’s story—only a chapter. Even when the rest of the world cannot, God will remember my pépère. And He will desire the work of His hands.

God speed that day.

Jeremy Lallier is a member of the Church of God, a Worldwide Association, living in Virginia.