Danielle's Truth

Hello. My name is Danielle Greiner, and I am Greg’s daughter. I want to start off by saying that I am so sorry for your loss. I know some of you want to say, “No, I’m sorry for YOUR loss.” Well, the truth is all of us lost a special person in our life a couple weeks ago. Some of you lost a son. Some of you lost a brother. Others of you lost an uncle. Some lost a grandpa, a “boppa”. Some lost a friend. Some lost a prayer buddy. Some lost a former coworker. Maybe someone even lost a lover. I don’t care to know that. But, for all of you, I am deeply sorry for your loss. We all have an empty void in our hearts and lives now that he is gone. We all knew him differently. We all have memories that show a different side to my dad. I’d like to hear yours, as you will soon hear mine.

 

 

As some of you may know already, my dad was adopted by my Grandpa Francis. My dad did not know this until he was a teenager. This means that my grandpa really considered my dad as his own. Thank you, Grandpa for taking on that responsibility and treating him as your own, and me as your own granddaughter.

 

As a young child, my dad spent a lot of time with me. I believe his favorite ages with me were from the time I could walk until almost middle school. The reason I know this is because when I was a baby, I earned my nickname, PITA. For those of you who don’t know what PITA stands for, it is Pain In The Ass. However, you could say that it really wasn’t my fault that I was a PITA, I was just a baby and my mom had left me with him for the first time alone, and apparently I cried the whole time. Long story short, I had gas and had to poop. From then on, I was his PITA.

 

When I got to the age of walking, my dad would always take me out to explore the woods. I had many bouts with poison ivy, but it never stopped me from enjoying to play in the woods with my dad. We spent so much time tromping through the woods, that when he was a chaperone for my trip to the wilderness center, we went off the path even though we weren’t supposed to.

 

When I was in 3rd grade, my dad got a hunting dog and we named her Reba. She quickly became my best friend, and his. That dog meant the world to him. I remember he’d take her pheasant hunting and I’d sometimes go with him. There was one time when I went with him and Reba went on point. She ended up going into the bushes and it turned out it was a skunk. Well, I think you know what happened. I remember it being very cold that day and how we had to keep the windows down all the way home, which was about an hour. We didn’t care, that darn dog smelled so bad!

 

Speaking of hunting and pets, when he moved out to Earlham, Dad got me 2 black kittens, Jake and Mandy. Those kittens loved to climb the tall tree beside the house, but they always got stuck. So, my dad would take out his shot gun and shoot at the branches to try to knock them out of the tree. It worked, but it was probably not the best idea as far as safety, but you know my dad.

 

Those kittens ended up getting hit by cars, and we buried them side by side like in Where the Red Fern Grows. Some plant did grow between them just like in the book. I would have never gotten through that book if it weren’t for my dad. It was assigned to me in 6th grade and I had trouble focusing when it came to reading. Not to mention the print in that book was super small. So my dad went to the library and checked out the cassette tapes so we could listen to it every time he picked me up from my mom’s and every time he took me to school. I remember us both sobbing at the end of that book.

 

We ended up getting another kitten from the vet clinic in Adel. Her name was Monkey. Monkey was the only cat he ever had a bond with. She would sit on his chest and nibble at his chin.

 

My dad really was a sensitive man. But, he was also a very strong man. I remember him always telling me to “man up.” I look back on that today and know that he wasn’t saying not to cry. He was saying I just needed to keep going even when something gets me down. He always kept a positive outlook on life. Whenever he got knocked down, he got back up. He was stubborn. He wasn’t a rule follower. He lived like he wanted to live, and was very much an independent person. As I listen to what I just said, I see that is a lot like how I am. I am independent, stubborn, and I do things my way. He did it his way, like the song, which by the way was a song he’d sing a lot. So, he has definitely shaped who I am today.

 

He had his way of motivating me. He’d bet me that I couldn’t do things and that would just push me to work harder to prove him wrong. He told me I wouldn’t make it through when I went to the boundary waters. He told me I would use the sag wagon in the MS-150. I remember being so pissed at him as I was doing these things because at the time I really thought he didn’t think I could do it. I know now he was just saying those things because he knew it would motivate me to push through.

 

My dad taught me drive, and believe it or not, I am an excellent driver. I think he knew he needed to teach me the safe way even though he didn’t always do things the safe way.

 

You could not talk to him before his morning coffee. He had his “sleepy face” (show sleepy face).

 

I will always remember his dancing and the faces he made as he danced (show example).

 

Whenever I wouldn’t talk to him, he’d bring out Junior (show Junior).

 

He is the one who I addressed for the sex talk. During the Packer game of all things. He ignored me several times, and apparently I grabbed his face and said, “Listen to me!” He apparently looked at my mom who had stepped into the room giving her the “help me” look. She said, “You’re doing fine, dear,” and walked away.

 

When we lived in Earlham, every night he’d come in my room and we’d play Snowboard Kids.

 

I will miss his spaghetti and tacos. No one can make his spaghetti the way he did.

 

I will miss how he cut my poached eggs on toast. One time when I was older he served me this and didn’t cut it up. I was like, “What am I supposed to do with this?” and then he cut it up for me.

 

When I was little he always told me the story of how he was one of those people in the circus who rode motorcycles in the cage. I believed him for so long!

 

I loved when we went fishing in Canada.

 

When I was in elementary school, we went to a Menace soccer game and he taught me how to haggle. I still have that sweatshirt.

 

I will always remember when I was 3-7 years old how we would scrub the kitchen floor in our underwear. I’d slide all over the floor! It was a blast!

 

We always talked about doing daring things and would frequently find videos to share with each other of the next daring thing we would like to or not like to try. We did one which was skydiving.

 

Because my dad cheated at Battleship a lot, my mom bought him the electronic version so he couldn’t cheat anymore. I still have that Battleship.

 

I will always remember his nose. Every time you would touch the tip of it, it would crack.

 

I don’t smoke because of him. I could say it was because I didn’t like the smell. I think part of it was from when I was around 7 and was trying to light his cigarette and he said that maybe I should put it in my mouth and suck as I was lighting it. I did what he told me. I don’t recommend it.

 

He gave me my first sip of beer when I was around 4. I did not like it then, and I do not like it now.

 

He and my mom coached my soccer team when I was little. I remember my friends on the team being mad at him for continuing to smoke and one of them took his pack of cigarettes and stomped on them. He was not happy.

 

He threw me the best birthday parties with a huge bonfires.

 

His red cake was delicious. And I can definitely tell you it is not red velvet cake. It is similar as far as taste but the texture is way different.

 

He loved the Packers, Good n Plentys, butter cookies, Kitchen Cooked Potato Chips.

 

Everyone at Deere knew him. When I sent him a quartet to sing for him at the office, everyone gathered round to watch Greg.

 

He loved mowing and being tidy.

 

One time he told me a story about cleaning out his car with a leaf blower. He said he started to feel faint but was almost done so he continued until he passed out.

 

After my dad’s motorcycle accident, he really had no filter. He also began to slowly decline. From a very young age he always told me that he would die by the age of 70. He didn’t make it to that. It was hard to see him decline. I remember chasing him as a child and never being able to catch him. Watching him use a walker was so hard to take. Watching him struggle with breathing, this was not my dad. Talking on the phone and texting him was where I could still see my dad for who he truly is.

 

He was the man with 9 lives. So many things he did in his life could have killed him. He has fallen through ceilings, fallen out of a tree with a chain saw, was in a serious motorcycle accident, had several other car accidents after that, and was in and out of the hospital so many times toward the end of his life. It never stopped him. He always got back up. He always told me that he was getting better and doing well. I believed him as so many of you did as well. His goal was to go home. He moved into the cottages and was going to keep his townhouse for 90 days after that just in case he really did get better. He was in the cottage for about a week before he passed. He did go home though, just not the home he was thinking of.

 

The saddest thing about his death is that he doesn’t get to be a part of his grandchildren growing up. I know his spirit will be, and I truly believe his spirit has been here with my daughter every so often. I believe they have been talking and playing with each other since his death. My dad always had a goofball face, like he was always up to something. Lucky for me, my son has that same look.

 

The other sad thing about his death is that he was the one keeping the family together. I don’t know what will happen after today, but I hope we can all push ourselves to keep in touch. Dad would have wanted us to still be a family, as would Grandma and Grandpa Frakes, and Aunt Julie.

 

I want to thank John for all he has done for my dad. I consider you as his brother, as you have been there with him since he was a child. If it weren’t for you, we would have been here long before today. Because of you, we were able to experience Greg longer.

 

Because of my dad, I have become a well-rounded, stubborn, independent, and strong woman. He did the best job he knew how to do. Yes, he made his share of mistakes, but don’t we all. I appreciate you all waiting this long to do his celebration of life. I have gone through many emotions since the beginning of this month and have had the time to process. So thank you for that. If my dad were here today, he would probably want to tell you all that he truly did it his way and that he is home now. I guess all that is left for me to do is my dad and my nightly routine to say goodbye. So:

 

Danielle: See you later, alligator!
Dad: After while, crocodile!

Danielle: Don’t get wise, beady eyes!

Dad: You understand, rubber band?!?

Danielle: You got it, Dude!

Dad: Love you, babe!

Danielle: Hasta La Vista, Baby!

Dad: Hasta Luego, Senorita!

Danielle: Love you!

Dad: Love you more!

Danielle: Love you as far as you can get!

Dad: Hey!!!!

 

 

 

 

I know the following is a more selfish move on my part, but telling this truth is going to set me free of my pain. I have taken out several things from my original draft that were probably too much for some to stomach. This message is my path to healing and forgiveness. I’ve sat on this for a year and my gut says this is necessary for my healing. I hope that someday I will be able to forgive you.

 

When someone important to you dies, your first thoughts are not the memories of any trauma, they are the precious memories you had with them. The above eulogy is a product of this. I didn't start to recall the trauma until several days after his funeral when I received the copy of his trust. I never realized how much of a disappointment I was to my father. After going through the emotions of me being a disappointment, I started to remember the trauma.

 

He is the reason I have had a hard time trusting men, and probably at least one of the reasons I have questioned my beauty. My father was a very big flirt. The women I would see him flirt with were young, skinny women. This to me made me feel like men had no sense of monogamy, and also began to form my thoughts on what was considered beautiful and looking at myself feeling like I'd never be that. Yes, every time my father would hear me say something negative about myself he would make me say three to five positives about myself, but I sometimes wonder if he ever knew that these thoughts were subconsciously taught to me. Obviously I would never want my father to find me attractive,but my main male role model in my life was him, and his opinions shaped my knowledge of what “men” think is beautiful. And of course this is not completely his fault, it is also the media, but his actions reinforced what the media was telling people.

 

Then we come to my parents' divorce. Everyone seems to blame my mom and be mad at my mom for it. But do you know why she divorced him? My guess is no, because my father had an image to keep. He signed up for a dating site where he advertised himself as “Married man looking for something on the side.” I did not find this out until after I was an adult because my mom didn't want me to think ill of my father. After they divorced, my father started playing the field, again shaping my thoughts of men and what women should look like. Right after my parents split up, I had a soccer game. I had forgotten my jersey at my father's house. So I called him several times to tell him we were on our way to his house to pick up my jersey. He never answered my call. When I got to his house, I got out and started to walk toward the door. My mom immediately got on the phone and tried to call him again. He finally answered and mom told him, “I know you probably have someone in there, but Danielle is currently walking up to your door to get her soccer jersey, so you probably should meet her at the door.” When I got to the door, he was there. I told him I just needed to come in to get my jersey. He told me I could not come in. I asked him why and he told me someone had spent the night. He went in and got my jersey and said he'd be at my game. He was not there when the game started. I remember being so angry with him. To me this was the beginning of him choosing women over time with his own daughter. He continued to have his “fun” with women. He even ended up dating a woman who was 19 (he thought she was 23, he was 42).

 

Fast forward to Melissa. I don't know how quickly after he started dating Melissa that he introduced me to her, but I do know my father had said that she was mad when he hadn't proposed to her after 6 months of dating. Anyway, after I had met her, every weekend I was with my father, she was there. I lost personal time with him. His excuse was that we had Tuesday and Thursday nights together. This meant from 5pm until 7am on those days. A reminder that I was in my teenage years, which means there was also homework. This was not relaxed personal time where we could just chat or hang out. Plus, bed time was between 8:30 and 9, so that gave us a total of maybe 4 hours. Oh, but Danielle, don't forget those morning hours. Do you even know how long it takes a middle school girl to get ready in the morning? It's a get ready and go scenario.

 

And then Melissa started going on vacations with us and visiting family. She came with us to go fishing in Canada. I never got to just be in the boat fishing with my father, she also had to be there. I had had enough time with her that I decided to stay back at the cabin. My grandma and grandpa were also at the cabin and I decided to go in and take a nap. My grandparents apparently thought I was sleeping because my grandma started to talk about my behavior and how my attitude was like my mom's. Grandpa just listened and really didn't say much. I think he maybe sympathized a little with me. I never told my grandma that I had overheard her and how awful it made me feel. I wish I had, but I felt like I had no one who would even listen or care, especially because my father was the family favorite.

 

There was one person who did show that they cared on my father's side of the family, my Grandma Francis. I remember sitting in her kitchen, it was just her and me. She asked me what I thought of Melissa. I stayed quiet and looked down. She said, “It's okay, Danielle. I don't think it will last long.” She took the time to ask me how I felt. At that point I didn't feel like I could share, but she could read me. She knew I was hurting.

 

Eventually it had come time that I was to meet Melissa's parents. The day before I was to meet them, we had gone to a restaurant. I was done eating so I began to clean up my mess and stack my plates and whatnot. Melissa looked at me and said, “You better not do that when you meet my parents tomorrow.” I asked, “Do what?” She said, “Clean up after yourself. That's not your job. It's not proper.” I said, “I was taught to clean up after myself.” My father never said a word. I asked him about it years later and he said that I didn't know what was said in private between them after the incident, and that he did say something to her. Looking back I can understand why he did that, but I wish I had known he was defending me because I felt so alone when I was with them.

 

To give you a picture of how alone I felt and how much I blocked out because of it, I was going through old home videos from my father's camera after he died. There was footage of us going to Disney World. I did not remember this trip even though I was in the video. As I watched the videos, there were faint recollections of this trip. I remember my trip to Disney World when I was 9 better than I remember the trip from when I was 14 or 15. How can you forget a trip to Disney World? Trauma...

 

My father went through divorce yet again. I was so angry with Melissa for how she did this when my father had done nothing wrong and had loved her very much. She had stolen from him. How could she do that to him when he loved her so much and he was always taking her side? All of this crap I had been through had been for nothing. He chose her over me just to be stolen from. I see now that this may be the Karma that had been building up.

 

A few years later my father had gotten into a motorcycle accident and I truly believe he had a brain injury from this. He had changed. I saw him become more judgmental.

 

My father had never really approved of David. It started with him having issues with the age difference. However, he had no room to talk. He spread lies about David to his side of the family and all of his friends. I appreciate that Grandpa Francis addressed me about David to my face. He asked me if I was happy with David. I said yes. This to me was his way of finding out himself. He didn't stick to talking behind my back like so many of my father's side of the family. My father talked behind my back about so many things. He made people think ill of me. Those people never came and asked me and just believed every word that came out of his mouth. I am happy that my father's friend Brandi reached out to me and found the truth. He spread lies about my brother-in-law, and made people think I was a horrible parent allowing my kids around my brother-in-law. If you want to know the truth just ask me. You don't know the situation, you only know what you read from the newspaper. You know what's really sad? The two people (David and my brother-in-law) who have had lies spread about them the most are the two people who have tried to help find excuses for my father's behavior.

 

Then there is the trauma caused by the hate family on his side has had for me since my parents' divorce. I know a lot of you have talked crap about me behind my back. I know a lot of you see me as a disappointment. You see me as a disappointment because I am not a lead teacher and don't make a lot of money. You see me as a disappointment because I home school my children. You see me as a disappointment because my husband is a stay-at-home dad. Well guess what? I am making a difference in children's lives with my job and still get to have my time with my own children before they are all grown up. I know my children are safe and well-cared for and are involved in lots of activities that allow socialization. My children are being raised by family and not just some stranger. I have a husband who loves me and takes care of me. I own my house outright. I have no mortgage. I am HAPPY! Shouldn't that be what is important? My happiness? My family being well-cared for? Instead you all judge. You put on fake, polite smiles when you are around me. No, I am not Amy, the daughter my father always wanted who got over $200,000 from my dad. But I am by no means a horrible, unworthy person. I am not a disappointment. I don't think I've ever been unkind to any of you. Your thoughts of me are all based on what my father has said and that I am my mother's child.

 

Also, after my mom divorced him, he told his dad that my mom wouldn't let him go visit them. She actually tried to push him to go see them many times. He was the one who didn't want to go. You all paint my mom as the villain, and my father as the poster child and family favorite. You are so wrong. My mom is a forthright lion and doesn't hide how she feels. My father was a silent snake. Tell me which you'd prefer?

 

When I was to meet up at the funeral home for funeral preparations, I had told David to not come. This needed to be done by the immediate family and John. I arrived there and the funeral director introduced themselves and I met up with John and Uncle Jeff. There was another woman there whom I had never met. I could only assume that this was Uncle Jeff's new wife. Not once did anyone introduce us. She also did not belong there. I told David this wasn't his place, so it was not her place either. I was very uncomfortable. I felt like I couldn't say anything because I know my Uncle Jeff has hated me since my parents' divorce and I wasn't about to have this situation go bad.

 

My father never talked to me about his trust other than I would be his medical power of attorney and that I would get first walk-through of what I wanted from his house. It turns out he changed the medical power of attorney to my uncle, my cousin, and John without my knowledge. The trust read that I got first walk-through of the house to select items that I would like to have for myself and $20,000. His car was worth around $13,000 and I got that as well because that was part of “in the house.” There was no list of off-limits items in the trust. I did not get to walk-through his independent-living cottage first. I was told there wasn't much there. When I got to my father's house people were already there going through his stuff. My understanding was that I was going to get to do this alone. I was also told that I could not have the antique tractor, which at the time, I understood because it was something that was shared between my dad and his brother. It was not listed in the trust. But now that I know that his brother also got over $200,000, I think I was too generous. I was also told that all the guns were off limits because the boys are at an age where they are going to want to shoot. Again, another thing NOT listed in the trust. I also found things in the house that my uncle might have wanted and I gladly gave these things to him. The accounting statement mentioned that the items I took from the house were worth between $5,000 and $15,000. If that is true, at most the monetary worth I received was $48,000. Do I believe I have $15,000 worth of items from his house? No. Do I believe $5,000? Possibly. Old tools, a grill, a small deep freeze, a couch, some old fishing gear, an old video camera, a Kindle, some pictures off the walls, a cheap record player, some blankets, two beds with mattresses, a few knick-knacks, some old McDonald's toys, family pictures...I was such a disappointment to him that he used his trust to punish me for it.

 

The Beneficiaries:

My Cousin-the daughter my father always wanted: Over $200,000

My Uncle-the one family member who's hated me since the divorce: Over $200,000

My Uncle's twin sons: Over $100,000 each

My Uncle's oldest son: $50,000

My Cousin-the brother of the cousin that is the daughter my father always wanted: $50,000

Lutheran Church of Hope: Over $170,000

St. Jude's: $116,000

Me: $20,000, a car worth $13,000, and whatever I wanted in the house except for the tractor and the guns.

 

Nothing left to the other brother, his stepbrother, or his stepsister. Nothing left to any of his stepsister's children. Nothing left to his grandchildren. It's not about the money. It's about how much of a disappointment I was to him because I don't live up to his standards. It's about how I have always felt that he wished my cousin was his daughter and not me. It's about how he felt like my uncle's oldest son was an obligation and gave him something, but less than his younger twin brothers. It's about the trauma. It's about how he has always chosen someone else over me. It's about how he left nothing for his grandchildren. It's about how he talked behind my back and has made everyone believe that I am the villain. He pushed me away for so long. It is true I feared visiting him. I feared visiting him not only because it hurt to watch him deteriorate, but also because I could feel the negative energy he had toward my family. It's about how some of you just listened and believed everything he said without even confronting me. It's about how some of you talked behind my back. If all you are going to do is smile and be polite, why even do this at all? I think my uncle probably agrees on this because he unfriended and blocked me after my mom posted something, as if I had something to do with it. My mom is her own person and she knows I can fight my own battles. She has a right to vent her own stuff and this situation has obviously upset her as well. She isn't speaking for me. She is speaking her feelings. Do I feel some of the same feelings? I do. My guess is that the truth hurts. I don't think he liked seeing the truth. But he has cut off ties because he probably doesn't need to keep smiling and being polite. If you feel like you are just smiling and being polite, let me go. We can cut ties. But don't do it because you believe all the things my father said. Find the truth first. Talk to me. I'm here. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. I appreciate when people clarify if they don't understand. I won't take offense. I take offense to the quiet polite smiles. Be real.

 

The sad thing is that he told me he was proud of me on June 19, 2017. What changed? This was what he said:

 

“You know I do have a pretty good kid. Last night about 1 AM she sent me these six photos in a text. She also said the following:

Thank you for being a great parent. The pure joy expressed in this photo is the proof of the wonderful life you and Mom gave to me. I wouldn't be who I am today without your love. Thank you! I love you!

Anybody know of a way that you can't be proud of that. What a great thing to wake up to. We shared a number of texts after that are between us.

And for those of you that have doubted that I ever had hair you can see I did. LOL

Her mother and I did do a very good job while we were together and even once we divorced. I don't have one moment of regret.

She sent pictures as you can see that included her grandparents and my friend John Hiatt.

Once again my friends enjoy the simple things in life because they mean the most. Be well everyone.”

 

Seriously, what happened? What did I do between 2017 and 2025 that could have changed his mind about me? Honestly, my whole life with him feels like a giant lie. All I was to him was a giant let down. And apparently I am also considered that by the rest of the family. I honestly don't know how all my cousins feel about me except for maybe Justin. I know Justin has my back. He is so much like my Aunt Julie and she was the only adult I really ever trusted on that side of the family. Plus it seems as if he and I are the black sheep of the family because we live our lives differently. But I'm tired. I'm tired of the polite smiles. “I wish you well but I can no longer stand aside and watch you sabotage the two of us. I love you to death but I can't spend the rest of my life in this darkness, I'm done.”