LINCOLN — You should have seen it, Greg.

The line out the door at St. Mark’s Methodist Church at the celebration of life on Thursday night. The “SN” (Topeka) and “RL” (Manhattan) Kansas county license plates in the parking lot. All the Nebraska and Kansas folk gathered together to honor one incredible guy.

All the familiar faces. In one area there were all your colleagues from the Huskers Radio Network. There was the Kansas State contingent, led by Wyatt Thompson and your old partner, Stan Weber. Coaches like Matt Rhule, Fred Hoiberg and Darin Erstad.

And so many other friends, colleagues and folks who were fans of yours — enough to nearly fill a large sanctuary.

The memory tables, with family photos and fun memorabilia and articles of your time in press boxes at Nebraska and K-State. The flower arrangement sent by the other 17 Big Ten play-by-play broadcasters.

And all the hugs. And tears.

You should have heard them, Greg. Your daughter Campbell proudly singing a solo, “In Jesus Name.” And daughter Taylor, bravely reading a personal poem she wrote for you.

There was your old friend, Bruce Steinbrock, telling the one about when you were the public address announcer at K-State basketball games and were stuck in traffic and missed the beginning of the historic last game at Ahearn Fieldhouse. Bruce filled in for you.

There was Weber, your K-State partner, talking about the time you first got together: the 1995 KU football game when your mentor, Mitch Holtaus, was asked to do the TV broadcast. You filled in and it was the beginning of an iconic career. Weber said you two helped each other grow up together in the booth over six wonderful seasons.

There was Kevin Haskin, the old scribe from the Topeka Capital-Journal, who told the story about your first game at Nebraska — which happened to be in Lawrence, Kansas (2007). And all the local Kansas TV and media types, following you around and reporting on your return to the state.

And Chris Ehrke, a member at St. Mark's who was an usher on Friday. He talked about how he always sat behind you in church and would tap you on the shoulder and ask you for the Husker message of the week. And you never failed to deliver.

And Lane Grindle, your old Nebraska baseball partner, now the lead radio voice of the Milwaukee Brewers. In his eulogy, Grindle told the gathering about your habit of humming after a bad inning by the Huskers.

Grindle said while he would be throwing things against the wall in the booth, he looked over and couldn’t believe your even-keel professionalism. Except you were humming. When things went bad, Grindle said, Greg started humming.

“Years later, I would get texts from someone saying, 'Greg’s humming again,'” Grindle said.

You could hear the church choke up as Grindle finished, summing up Sharpe’s valiant fight with cancer this past year by adding, “But Greg never hummed.”

You would have been so proud, Greg. You should have been there.

What I mean is, I really, really wish you were still here to have seen and heard all the love.

Funerals are for the living. The ones left behind. It’s their chance to pay tribute, tell the stories that have never been told, express personal feelings, say what the person meant to them.

Too often, you wish you had said it to them. Too often, you wish you could have heard those stories from them.

That’s the way of life. It moves a mile per minute. If you’re lucky, you remember once in a while to tell the people in your life that they mean the world to you.

But in this case, I think Greg already knew what some discovered on Friday: that Sharpe was the richest man in Nebraska. Maybe the world.

This was a strong family man who spent any available moment with wife Amy and daughters Emily, Campbell and Taylor. This was a man of countless friends, who always had time for a chat and always listened. He always made you feel important.

You know what? Sharpe was, in fact, there on Friday. Oh, yes.

His spirit could be heard as Amy talked about the love of her life, in Campbell’s beautiful song, and Taylor getting through her poem.

That spirit was present in the areas outside where friends and colleagues from Kansas and Nebraska met with handshakes and hugs and swapped tales of their old friend. They all had one thing in common: they were touched by the man.

Sharpe was big enough to have had an impact on two states and two schools. He’s a legend at Kansas State. And Nebraska.

He was the kind of broadcaster and person that, had he moved to Oklahoma or Michigan or Alabama, he would have had the same impact on those states.

You can’t fool the people. They know what’s real and what’s not. And Sharpe’s passion was real. He was the genuine article.

A generation of Wildcat and Husker fans grew up with that passion in their heads and in their hearts. Their fondest memories will have Greg’s booming voice as a soundtrack.

But it’s an interesting thing about a funeral for a play-by-play man. You find out he played the game of life, too. And played it well.

Dwayne Smith, a close friend of Sharpe who read scripture on Friday, put it best when he talked about the dignity and character displayed by the Sharpe daughters at a time of extreme pain and sorrow.

And Smith lauded the strength of Amy, and rightfully so, as the backbone of any strong family is the wife and mother.

“Be a good memory to someone. Use your kindness to make a good memory to someone. How you make someone feel is what matters in the end.”

Greg Sharpe made anyone he came in touch with feel, and that’s the definition of a full life.

The funeral ended with a slideshow of Sharpe’s life, played to songs. He and I lived parallel lives, from our youth in Kansas City to living out our dreams in a college football press box to being a Girl Dad to three beautiful daughters.

It was a tough day. And I have to say when I heard the line “fathers and daughters never say goodbye” during the slideshow, I got emotional.

I’m going to miss you, old friend. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to learn from your life, and your example. And I want to remember your passion, as I walk past the Greg Sharpe radio booth on football Saturdays.

I know you were here on Friday, Greg. I felt the presence of a proud husband, father and friend as I stepped outside into the warm afternoon.

The sun was beaming.