Waterford — They are mere words: The fragility of life. And yet when the words come to life — through the finality of death — there are no words at all.

There are no words for Betsy, Zach, Connor and Ethan Lewis of Waterford today. None. There is no explaining their unspeakable sorrow, following the sudden death of David Lewis, the family patriarch, husband to Betsy, father to the boys.

David Lewis, barely 50 years old, a Senior Information Director at Travelers, was a gentle, decent, understated, family man. He celebrated Connor's high school graduation with many friends Thursday night. He was dead Friday morning. His family, friends and the town he loved are heartbroken.

There are no words.

But there was an action Saturday. Observers of local sports, certainly in Waterford, know Connor Lewis, the middle son, is a prominent student-athlete. Connor decided to play in two baseball games, Waterford American Legion's doubleheader.

"I felt like it helped me get my mind off things," Connor said. "I think it's what my dad would have wanted. I tried to go out there for him, I guess."

Lewis' high school career was exceptional. Few, if any, other high school kids in the history of this region ever grasped the concept of timeliness better than Connor Clutch. To wit:

March 11, 2014: His rebound basket at the buzzer against Watertown sent the basketball team to the second round of the state tournament.

March 11, 2015: One year to the day later, his rebound basket at the buzzer against Sheehan sent the basketball team to the quarterfinals of the state tournament.

June 2, 2015: He pitched a no-hitter in the first round of the state tournament over Bacon Academy.

June 3, 2015: In his final at bat as a high school baseball player with his team trailing by two runs late, he homered.

Which brings us to Saturday.

He pitched a two-hit shutout over Tri-Town.

His first at bat: base hit.

His second at bat: base hit.

His third at bat: base hit.

His fourth at bat: double.

He had three hits in the first game, too.

Connor Clutch.

And somewhere, David Lewis goes, "that's my boy."

His son, never overwhelmed by the moment, owner of an enviable demeanor, paid attention to his dad.

"My dad was always so unselfish over the years. He went about his business not thinking about himself ever. Just us," Connor said. "I try to do that for my team, I guess. I try not to let the pressure get to me and do anything I can for the guys. My family."

And when he says "family," he means its core definition. They've endured death before. Three years ago, teammate Kyle McComic's dad, Rob, a man very much like David Lewis, died suddenly. There were no words.

"I told my mom (Friday) that I know exactly what Connor's going through," said McComic, headed to pitch at Central Connecticut. "He's in complete shock. He doesn't even know it. Exactly how I felt. It's hard seeing Connor like this. I never wanted anyone else to feel that."

There is no manual for this. No way to know how to feel. Connor Lewis has his family ... and then his family. His brothers and his ... brothers. And their parents. They've been through it all. Their circumstances have been tragic. Extraordinary. Inspirational.

"We were close before my dad died but after that, we became, literally, brothers," McComic said. "Now this. I went through a real rough stretch. The first year after he died, I was in shock. After that, I didn't let any of my emotions go. I didn't talk to anyone about it. I'd flip out on my mom. I just had horrible anger management.

"I went to therapy for a few months. The guy I went to said to filter my anger through sports. Not aggressively to hurt other people, but to get better at it. Pitching is the only way I can get away from everything.

"Pitching, you have the world in your hand. You determine what happens in the game and escape everything that's uncontrollable around you," McComic said. "That's what I mean when I say pitching is my escape. I bet Connor will be the same way, just by the way he threw today."

Connor Lewis has the sanctuary of the field. He had it Saturday, what with teammate Mike McDermott's bunt that ended up being a triple – McDermott chugging to third base as if in need of a taxi. Good lines throughout the dugout. Brent Conderino's blue-and-white striped Dr. Seuss socks. Assistant coach Mickey Amanti and his Mickey-isms.

Connor, headed to the University of Hartford to play baseball, has a whole town there for him. So does Betsy. Zach. Ethan. Sure felt as though all the 06385 was next door Friday at the Pezzolesi's, mourning together.

"I'm not mad," Connor said. "(Friday) night, the whole thing felt unreal. I've been with all the guys keeping my mind off things. I guess that's how I'm going to deal with it. I don't know. Just a million things going through my head."

May David Lewis rest in peace.

He leaves quite a legacy.

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro.

Twitter: @BCgenius