Waterford — So I'm sitting inside the First Baptist Church of Waterford last week, mourning the death of my friend David Lewis. Bad day, bad week. I knew Dave through sports at Waterford High, specifically his son, Connor, who has given me rather robust subject matter over the years.

His death caused me to question my own spirituality. Straight up: I understand that even in this world of technology, there are abstractions that defy explanation. But this? This gentle, decent man, dead suddenly at 50?

You may imagine my chagrin when Pastor David Moynihan began the funeral by quoting Ecclesiastes 7:2: "It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart."

Pastor Dave explained it thusly: It's better to go to a funeral than a party.

Little did I ever realize, after my initial thoughts of sarcasm and how they don't allow Bud Light at funerals, that this was where I needed to be.

For one thing, I shut off my phone for an hour. Imagine: sitting there in quiet contemplation. Just a man alone with his thoughts. Or as some of you probably think: his thought. Whatever. You'd never think that a quick inventory of one's life would ever happen at 11 a.m. on some random Wednesday.

I thought about heading to the podium, as other patrons did, to share some thoughts about Dave. I don't know. I get this forum every day. Didn't want to be a ball hog. But I would have said that David taught me how to act as a parent — and I'll be doing this soon — watching your kids play: seen and not heard. Not unless you are screaming "a girlie scream," as Tom Pezzolesi described hearing David recently, upon seeing your kid hit a homer.

Suddenly, I was feeling better, not realizing the main event was about to happen.

This was one for the books. David's mother-in-law, Peggy Ego, stepped to the front of the church and delivered the single most insightful, inspirational eulogy in the history of words. One that I needed to hear. That we all need to hear.

Peggy spoke of her own exasperation, suddenly thrust into this unspeakable sorrow.

"God, what are you thinking?" she said. "How could you take David? Betsy and the boys need him. How could you do this?"

My thoughts exactly, except far more G-rated.

Peggy then quoted 1 Thessalonians, verse 18: "Be thankful in all circumstances for this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus."

And then Peggy Ego, this gentle soul, stood before an overflowing church and listed all the things for which she is thankful. A soft voice belying its influence cut through the sorrow like a chef's knife, providing clarity to all of us doubters.

And we all doubt from time to time.

Peggy's list: "a house that is a home, family and friends who poured out love and caring in the midst of awful sadness of losing David. ... Guitar music and drums, baseball and basketball, growing relationships, watching kids grow into the adults they'll become.

"A wonderful husband, who is also a dad, gramp, Mr. Fix It and cook; coffee, ice cream, smart phones, the Apple store, Google, the beauty of nature, warmth in the winter, A/C in the summer, the library, Waterford Beach, our schools.

"I am thankful for the time we had with David, for his personality, his stabilizing influence on all of us and the example he set in each area of his life."

I cried.

Like Dick Vermeil, only longer.

I mean, how great is that?

And so Peggy has inspired me to do the same. Below is the list of things for which I'm thankful. If you are so inclined, leave yours in the comments section, Facebook, or simply sit down with a pad and paper and just start writing. You'll feel better.

I am thankful for (in no particular order after the first two): A wife who is a mom and a Mrs. Fix it, a son who hollers along to songs in the backseat of the car. I am thankful for pay at the pump, Johnnie Walker Black, XM Radio, John Sterling's home run calls, pianos, weed wackers, the sanctity of the library, wireless, Obama's rendition of "Amazing Grace," the Yankees.

I am thankful for: my mother's spaghetti sauce, Lancer Nation, when Ledyard High public address announcer Don MacKenzie says, "It's Friday night in Ledyard, Connecticut. Are you ready for some football?" I am thankful for adopting my father's teams (Yanks, Giants, Celts have given me 16 championships in my lifetime), heated seats, the "block" feature on Twitter, people who sign their real names, maroon and gold, Mr. G's, great friends and the first sip of coffee in the morning.

There's more, but you get the idea.

Thank you, Peggy.

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro.

Twitter: @BCgenius