The Day Grandpa Died

April 9, 2011

Fred Weiss, photographed by his son-in-law Stewart Hedger

Mom was in town this week and dropped off several bags of miscellany from way back when. In it I found an uncashed tax-refund check from the Auditor for the State of Indiana for $6.16. Other items went back a lot farther, including an essay I had written about when my grandpa died.

Fred Weiss was a Kentucky tobacco farmer and dairyman. I remember him as a quiet man. His giant smile was used a lot, and he liked to tease. He often sat in the backyard with a pipe and iced tea, a farm dog wagging its tail at his feet. More often than not, he was helping the dog with its collection of ticks.

He died in February 1983, making me 9 when I wrote the essay. Most of it is how I remember it, but I had forgotten the grin on my sister’s face. And I’m not recalling who Ms. Gill is, but I felt strongly enough to leave a margin note about her on Page 2 (see image below). With some edits for clarity and less creative spelling, here it is:

The Day My Grandpa Weiss Died

My grandpa Weiss was nice. He was a famous man in his town (it wasn’t his town, but it was where lived). He entered in many different things like Red Cross. And he owned a farm.

Friday after school is when it happened. We (my family) weren’t there. My grandpa was in the living room teasing my cousins Robin and April. Then he walked into the kitchen to put his billfold away and went to the dining room to hang his jacket up. But he died standing up. He fell into the closet, his jacket out of the closet.

Robin and April heard him fall, and when they saw him, Robin said, “Papal fall down.” And I guess they went out to get my grandma.

One of my aunts called and talked to my mom about it. When my sister came to tell me, she had a grin on her face so I didn’t believe her. I walked to the living room. There was my mom crying. She said we had to go to Grandma’s house.

We went Sunday morning. When we got to her house, she was still at church. At about 7:00 we went to the funeral home and got to see Grandpa. When some more of my relatives came, we (Grandpa’s closest relatives) lined up in two lines around Grandpa. When most of the other relatives came around, they said, “Sorry about your grandpa,” and shook our hand.

I'm not sure who Ms. Gill was, but this must have expressed my opinion of her in 1983.

Monday we went back. We got to see Grandpa again. Later we went to the church. The pastor said (in his sermon), “He was here every day. He was feeling good. And we know he will be going to heaven.” And that made my mom feel much better. Then we went to the funeral.

And this is the year he died. Friday, February.

The end

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