It's been a little over a month since the late-night house fire that killed Stacy Eberle's husband, Randy, who was just 44.
In that time, Eberle and her daughters have been trying to put their lives back together. But again and again, Stacy said, she has to tell the story of that fateful night.
Not because she wants too, necessarily, but because she must. There's paperwork related to two farms, accounts to settle, and plenty of good people who simply want to understand what happened.
And there have been community fundraisers for the family, bake sales and such, and no shortage of people to thank for helping the Eberles in the wake of the Jan. 27 fire, in which they lost everything.
And so, from the lobby of the Super 8 hotel where Stacy and three of her four daughters have been living, she recalled again how she just returned to the Eberle family farm on County P from a trip to Miami - happy to be home after a business trip for the Milk Marketing Board, where Stacy volunteers.
Randy went out to the barn to milk the herd. Around midnight or so, Stacy said, the kids were getting into bed when the smoke alarms went off - not an unusual occurrence in an old home with a wood-burner for heat.
But this was no false alarm. Stacy saw an "orange glow" in the basement, and began to yell for her daughters to leave. She remembers looking down the laundry chute and seeing the orange glow even brighter. She remembers looking for her cowboy boots and not being able to find them.
The house began to fill with acrid smoke.
Stacy recalls being outside in her bare feet with her daughters, Maria, 17, Josie, 12, and Carli, 10. She remembers her husband running into the house from the barn with a milk pail and not coming out.
It felt like forever for help to arrive - first a deputy, within minutes, and then the first fire truck, and eventually all the others. Thirteen fire departments would eventually respond in some fashion.
At one point, she said, a fire official told her it was too dangerous for crews to keep searching for Randy. The house had to be evacuated.
More time passed, and it became clear to everyone that Randy would not come out alive. Still, Stacy wondered, was he in the machine shed, sitting in one of the vehicles? Did he go somewhere else?
Stacy and her daughters later gathered in the barn, where they were told the news. Yes, remains were found - and they were likely those of Randy.
"Of course I didn't want to believe it a first," she said. "They didn't find him until the end."
Faced with the reality of losing the husband she first met in 1988, Stacy said she waited awhile to notify her 23-year-old daughter, Amanda, who was living in West Bend. Amanda was on the road, too, in Atlanta, but once she got the news, she rushed home to Monroe.
Stacy's neighbor asked her what she wanted to do, and she replied that the cows needed to be milked. It seemed like the best thing to do, and it helped with her initial shock. The grief, however, was just beginning.
In the days ahead, they would plan Randy's funeral. It was scheduled for Feb. 2, but the great blizzard of 2011 would force Stacy to postpone it a day.
"That was one of the hardest nights so far, I think, having to make that decision," she said. "Everyone wanted to be there, it was what we'd been working toward."
But soon enough, the service would be held. Friends, family and neighbors would come to pay their respects and say good-bye to the quiet man whose primary goal in life, said Stacy, was to raise his family and work the farm.
Randy loved farming, loved his work with FFA. It was what he was born to do, she said.
Though still grieving, Stacy and her daughters have begun to think about the future. Thanks to all of the help from the community, the dairy farm is still running, and renovations to a second farmhouse they own in Clarno are nearly complete. They're planning to move out of the hotel this weekend, ready to make a fresh start, even though a void remains.
"It was the first place Randy and I lived together after we were married," she said of their "new" house. "There are so many memories, but we have to keep moving on."
Now the girls are back in school. They have good days and bad, she said, but are looking forward to the stability of their own home. On Randy's birthday, Feb. 27, they traveled to a gymnastics meet, stopping at a restaurant to have a "little birthday party for dad."
The family's pastor, the Rev. Paul Gregersen of Clarno Zion United Methodist Church, said the Eberle's faith - and the support of their church family and community - has helped get them through the hard days since Randy's death.
"They are very strong enduring this," said Gregersen. "And a good deal of it has to do with their faith."
Stacy says she feels blessed to be among such caring family and friends in a close-knit community. But she is hardly getting over it, and wouldn't want anyone to go through what her family has endured.
"This is all so wonderful, finding out how much everyone cared about us and Randy," she said. "But I still wouldn't wish it on anyone."
Gregersen said the family will continue to need support, though at times all of the attention can seem overwhelming.
"It's important to recognize that the community just can't forget," he said. "They are going to need all the support we can give them."
In that time, Eberle and her daughters have been trying to put their lives back together. But again and again, Stacy said, she has to tell the story of that fateful night.
Not because she wants too, necessarily, but because she must. There's paperwork related to two farms, accounts to settle, and plenty of good people who simply want to understand what happened.
And there have been community fundraisers for the family, bake sales and such, and no shortage of people to thank for helping the Eberles in the wake of the Jan. 27 fire, in which they lost everything.
And so, from the lobby of the Super 8 hotel where Stacy and three of her four daughters have been living, she recalled again how she just returned to the Eberle family farm on County P from a trip to Miami - happy to be home after a business trip for the Milk Marketing Board, where Stacy volunteers.
Randy went out to the barn to milk the herd. Around midnight or so, Stacy said, the kids were getting into bed when the smoke alarms went off - not an unusual occurrence in an old home with a wood-burner for heat.
But this was no false alarm. Stacy saw an "orange glow" in the basement, and began to yell for her daughters to leave. She remembers looking down the laundry chute and seeing the orange glow even brighter. She remembers looking for her cowboy boots and not being able to find them.
The house began to fill with acrid smoke.
Stacy recalls being outside in her bare feet with her daughters, Maria, 17, Josie, 12, and Carli, 10. She remembers her husband running into the house from the barn with a milk pail and not coming out.
It felt like forever for help to arrive - first a deputy, within minutes, and then the first fire truck, and eventually all the others. Thirteen fire departments would eventually respond in some fashion.
At one point, she said, a fire official told her it was too dangerous for crews to keep searching for Randy. The house had to be evacuated.
More time passed, and it became clear to everyone that Randy would not come out alive. Still, Stacy wondered, was he in the machine shed, sitting in one of the vehicles? Did he go somewhere else?
Stacy and her daughters later gathered in the barn, where they were told the news. Yes, remains were found - and they were likely those of Randy.
"Of course I didn't want to believe it a first," she said. "They didn't find him until the end."
Faced with the reality of losing the husband she first met in 1988, Stacy said she waited awhile to notify her 23-year-old daughter, Amanda, who was living in West Bend. Amanda was on the road, too, in Atlanta, but once she got the news, she rushed home to Monroe.
Stacy's neighbor asked her what she wanted to do, and she replied that the cows needed to be milked. It seemed like the best thing to do, and it helped with her initial shock. The grief, however, was just beginning.
In the days ahead, they would plan Randy's funeral. It was scheduled for Feb. 2, but the great blizzard of 2011 would force Stacy to postpone it a day.
"That was one of the hardest nights so far, I think, having to make that decision," she said. "Everyone wanted to be there, it was what we'd been working toward."
But soon enough, the service would be held. Friends, family and neighbors would come to pay their respects and say good-bye to the quiet man whose primary goal in life, said Stacy, was to raise his family and work the farm.
Randy loved farming, loved his work with FFA. It was what he was born to do, she said.
Though still grieving, Stacy and her daughters have begun to think about the future. Thanks to all of the help from the community, the dairy farm is still running, and renovations to a second farmhouse they own in Clarno are nearly complete. They're planning to move out of the hotel this weekend, ready to make a fresh start, even though a void remains.
"It was the first place Randy and I lived together after we were married," she said of their "new" house. "There are so many memories, but we have to keep moving on."
Now the girls are back in school. They have good days and bad, she said, but are looking forward to the stability of their own home. On Randy's birthday, Feb. 27, they traveled to a gymnastics meet, stopping at a restaurant to have a "little birthday party for dad."
The family's pastor, the Rev. Paul Gregersen of Clarno Zion United Methodist Church, said the Eberle's faith - and the support of their church family and community - has helped get them through the hard days since Randy's death.
"They are very strong enduring this," said Gregersen. "And a good deal of it has to do with their faith."
Stacy says she feels blessed to be among such caring family and friends in a close-knit community. But she is hardly getting over it, and wouldn't want anyone to go through what her family has endured.
"This is all so wonderful, finding out how much everyone cared about us and Randy," she said. "But I still wouldn't wish it on anyone."
Gregersen said the family will continue to need support, though at times all of the attention can seem overwhelming.
"It's important to recognize that the community just can't forget," he said. "They are going to need all the support we can give them."