Easy.
Watching my Grandpa Stavitzke die at age 57 from lung cancer. I was there in the room when he drew his last breath. I was 13. Grandma was crying about losing her soul mate and putting lotion on his feet while we waited for the funeral home to come get him. My mom and her sisters were there and upset as well but I will never forget watching him die. It was January 1, 1998. He had to live until January 1, 1998 for my grandmother to be able to collect his retirement from the mill. I believe he held out for that.
Grandpa Stavitzke and me c.1984
Then there was the phone call at 3 am from Aunt Pam. It was December 2002 and she was calling to tell Dad that their youngest brother, my Uncle Craig, had committed suicide at age 33 in Cincinnati, Ohio. He was struggling with his addiction to alcohol and decided there was no other way out. So he took the cordless phone from the house, walked across the street to the convenience store, bought a beer, walked back across the street to the empty corner lot a few houses down from his home, drank some of the beer and proceeded to call 911. When the operator answered he told them to come and get his body. Then he put my papa's gun in his mouth and shot himself. Most of all I remember trying to figure out what was happening. My mom was crying and Dad was on the phone, he was crying too and all he could say was "poor Junior".
Aunt Pam and Uncle Craig c.1997
Then there was Uncle Brett. GG, Elizabeth, Keira, Chris, Rupert and I had spent a sunny October afternoon at the pumpkin patch and shortly after leaving GG's house I got a phone call from my sister. She was hysterical. All she said was "Brett's dead". So I turned around and went right back to GG's. The rest is a blur until Dad, GG, Rupert and I all drove to Wisconsin for the funeral and preparations. This was the worst set of circumstances so far. He had been murdered. By his son (my cousin) who was 16 at the time. Everything felt off but reality hadn't quite set in. The thing I wish I could forget is going to the funeral home with GG and Aunt Pam and going down to view the body (against the mortician's wishes) before he had been "prepared" for viewing. I had watched Grandpa Stavitzke die and I had seen a fair share of corpses but never someone that I knew and loved without all the makeup and lighting and everything else that makes them look "better". Aunt Pam wanted to see too so I went to see him first and made sure he was OK for her to see as well. He was all laid out on a slab cold and bruised with a bent nose and a Y incision running down his chest. Just like on tv. The mortician had left me alone with him because I was doing fine, so I decided to pull the sheet farther back and look at the bruising patterns and whatnot (my criminal drama personality comes in handy sometimes). Then when Aunt Pam did come down I could help her see him without seeing anything she didn't want to. Funerals are hard but that's definitely a rough memory. That and thinking about Dad, Aunt Pam and GG... GG has had to bury her oldest and youngest sons. Dad and Aunt Pam, their oldest and youngest brothers.
Uncle Brett and me c1984
Rupert meeting Uncle Brett, two months before he died
The last time I saw Uncle Brett
This photo was also used during the murder trial
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