On this day, 21 years ago, we lost my Grandpa Stampfler. I remember the day so vividly, despite the fact that I was only 9 years old.
It was a Sunday. After church Mom, Dad, and us kids had headed into town to grab some burgers for a quick lunch at home. I remember it being a beautiful, warm day, much like today, because we had the windows open letting the breeze blow in. Just as we got ready to sit down to eat, the phone rang. It was Grandma and she wanted to talk to Mom. When Mom got on the phone, Grandma told her that she couldn't find Grandpa anywhere, but the vehicles were around and she was worried. She had called all of the kids down. We left our burgers on the table where we had placed them. All of us packed back into the car and away we went. Not knowing how long it would be, Mom and Dad dropped us off at our friends house, the Cook's. We were going to play with them for the afternoon. Only I distinctly remember feeling very anxious about whatever was going on down at the farm and it was difficult for me to want to do anything. When we got to Cook's house, they were sitting down for dinner. I remember they were having pancakes and since we hadn't eaten, they invited us to join them. I didn't... the others did. I sat in an old rocking chair next to the dinner table and rocked and rocked and rocked. I will never forget that feeling of anxiety and fear at what was to come.
What seemed like days later, but was really only hours later, Mom and Dad came back to get us. I knew the news was bad when Mom walked in with red eyes... that told me she'd been crying. Dad looked very solemn and didn't really say much when we asked if they'd found Grandpa. The Cook's all went for a walk, while Mom and Dad and us kids sat at their picnic table under their shed. They told us something that I will never forget. Grandpa was dead. While Grandma was at church, he had taken his shot gun, went out by one of the barns and ended his life. I didn't understand. I remember asking lots of questions, for which Mom and Dad, and anyone else for that matter, had no answers. Pretty quickly, we packed up what we had brought with us, and headed back to the farm with the rest of the family.
I remember wondering why Grandpa would do that. He loved us didn't he? Didn't he want to see us kids anymore? He left no note, he hadn't seemed unhappy, there were no red flags, we can only speculate on what was going so wrong that he felt there was no way out. The answer is... it made no difference. There was nothing that we could have done differently. He loved us...and I can't think about the "Why".
When we got to the farm, we all stayed in side. I remember thinking that was strange then because normally all of us kids were out running around the farm feeding the cows, looking at the pigs, running through the barns. Now I realize that there were probably things we didn't need to see outside. I'm thankful that I didn't go out there. Grandma lay on the couch sleeping peacefully, at least outwardly, I know now that inside she must have been broken in a million pieces. I drew her a picture with flowers and a rainbow, wrote "I Love You" on it, and placed it next to her on the couch. Then I climbed up on Uncle Doug's lap and we rocked and rocked and rocked in Grandpa's chair for what seemed like the longest time.
Throughout the next days and weeks, we all took turns staying with Grandma so that she wasn't alone. I remember the day of the funeral. It was at Cedar Creek and the thing I remember the most is watching all of my aunts and uncles crying. Being huddled all together with family and crying with one another. I can honestly say I don't remember anything about the service, but the grief from that day and the days that followed is ingrained in my memory. Grandma sold the farm... no more watching calves be born, no more finding baby turtles in the swimming pool, gone were the days of running through the barnyard and feeding the calves, our trips through the cornfield and through the lake to ice fish are just a distant memory. For a while, we used to beg mom to drive by the farm after church, but soon after it was sold, it changed. It didn't look like the house and the barns and the silos and the milk parlor that Grandpa used to maintain. Now it was someone else's farm, someone else's playground, someone else's opportunity to create memories. It was sad... so sad! Even now I miss the farm ... forever I will miss the farm.
As for the family, we have lived on. We are now 23 grandchildren (+ spouses) and 8 great grandchildren with 2 or 3 on the way. The Lord has richly blessed our family and we continue to make memories each day. April 16; however, will never go by without me stopping to think about that day and allowing myself the time to dwell on the memories of Grandpa.
I Love You, Grandpa!
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