Grandpa Bastian Died at age 96- June 27, 2008

Everyone has a few people in their life that have shaped and molded them. You are not completely aware of the totality of their influence, you only know you would be a different person had they not been a part of your life. My Grandpa Bastian was one of those people for me. He died this Friday afternoon at 5:38 PM at the age of 96.

It is impossible to summarize in words what my Grandpa meant to me. Many of my earliest recollections of life are with me driving a tractor or combine between his knees as he would poke me in the ribs when I would veer too far to one side. As we were working the fields he would tell me the stories of his life. What it was like to grow up in an era when physical strength was so much more important than it is today. All of the contests they would have- seeing who could buck hay the highest, lift an anvil onto a table with one hand etc… He would also tell me the story of how he met my grandma and of their courtship and early life. A tape I made of his stories is one of my most prized possessions.One of the ways I feel I have been most cheated in life is not to have known my grandpa in his prime. He was 59 when I was born which means he was about 65 when I first remember him. Even at 65 he seemed larger than life to me, very strong in both body and mind. I wonder what it would have been like to know him when he was 35?

He owned a gas station in Aurora that I would help him run after schools and on weekends when I was about 12 years old. I loved when my uncles Jake and Garn and a few other farmers would come in and they would all pitch quarters for drinks and debate who’s corn was looking the best that year.

Until he was in his late 80’s I can not remember grandpa ever passing a child on the street without stopping and giving him a piece of candy. He did not do well at the gas station business because he would let everyone charge and never had the heart to aggressively collect from them. He never passed a hitchhiker without giving them a ride, paying them $5.00 for their pack of cigarettes, telling them to join the church and get a good job where they can make something of their life.

The last 15 years have been hard to watch grandpa slowly lose the ability to do the things that he loved to do. He had two loves in his life, his work and his family. And because he always worked with his family, it was even hard to separate those two loves. Up until a couple years ago he was feeding cows every morning and working on the farm as much as my dad dared let him. He was so frustrated that my dad would not let him do more, but deep down I think he knew he just was not able to hear and see well enough to work the machinery safely.

It has been so difficult for me to see my grandpa wither away over the past few years- almost more than I could bear at times. It was hard for me to learn that superman is mortal after all. I could go on for hours writing about him and probably will in my journal but won’t trouble all of you with that.

My grandpa was a living testament to the fact that a honest, hard working man that loves his family can leave this world a much better place than he found it. I find myself haunted by his example, and feel it unlikely to ever fill his shoes. It is an honor to call him my grandpa and to have been able to know him in such an intimate way. I have missed the real him for years as age has taken its toll on his body. I am so glad that he is now free to be himself again although he will be greatly missed.