Scott

1964–2025

Husband, father, friend.

Brother, brother-in-law, uncle, great-uncle.

School board and town council member.

Navy veteran, business owner, public works employee.

His nieces used to sing him a song:

Who’s the greatest of them all?
Uncle Scott
Uncle Scott
Uncle Scott Scott Scott . . .

He had a huge heart and he was loved everywhere he went.

I realized today that I only have one current picture of him, and these few from childhood. Why didn’t we take more photos?

Scott on the right, Ben on the left. With Pop-pop.

I think I speak for the whole family when I say we are all still in disbelief that he is gone. He was just here in Virginia with Ben and me a few weeks ago. They went to their favorite diner for breakfast. Fiddled around the farm. We had dinner—meatloaf, which he loved. Went to church Sunday morning, then to our favorite bad Mexican restaurant for lunch. Scott always ordered half ginger ale, half club soda, and the Hispanic girls had so much trouble understanding that.

He was just here.

Scott in the yellow shirt.

He loved Hank, our little dog, and Hank loved him. He loved my grandchildren, and Isaiah, especially, was enthralled with the white-haired man with the raspy voice who read him stories.

But as grieved as we are about losing Scott, we have comfort knowing where he is.

In the days leading up to his last one, when it became apparent that all the medical doors were closing, I started thinking about what was coming. My first thought was that he would wake up in the presence of Jesus—and Nana. There’s an old hymn with a line that says, “What a glad reunion day,” and that’s the one that came to mind. Scott is in heaven, seeing his savior face to face, and reunited with his mom. That’s hard to be sad about.

But Scott didn’t get there by accident. He got to heaven the same way anyone does.

Jesus himself said in John 14:6, “I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.” No man.

Scott had a past—we all do. The details of it don’t matter. One person’s history is not worse than another’s.

What matters is that we understand our poor choices have separated us from God.

Your iniquities have separated between you and your God, and your sins have hid his face from you . . . (Isaiah 59:2)

Scott knew that, and he knew that Jesus was his only hope of heaven.

For he [God] hath made him [Jesus] to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. (2 Corinthians 5:21)

Scott understood that Jesus took all of his sins, and in exchange gave him his righteousness. So when God looked down on Scott, he didn’t see Scott’s past, he saw his own son Jesus in all his perfection. Scott knew he had nothing to offer God except his trust in what Jesus did for him, and that was all it took: simple belief in what Jesus did for him.

That’s all it takes for anyone.

Scott, bottom left.

So while we are sad, we don’t sorrow “as others which have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). We grieve while knowing we will see Scott again at the throne of God, in the presence of Jesus and our loved ones who have gone before us.

When Scott was about to go in for open heart surgery, Ben’s final words to him were, “I love you. See you later,” and that is so appropriate.

We will see you later, Scott.

Scott, back row, second from right.