As I write this article, my late brother Danny is on my mind. His birthday is next week. If he were alive, he’d be 66 years old. I miss him.
Danny was ten years older than me, and enlisted into the Marine Corps at age seventeen. When he came home on leave we’d find three, four, and sometimes even five marines sleeping on our family room floor. My Dad worked two jobs, one of them the graveyard shift at a machine shop. As long as he was able to get his sleep he didn’t mind the houseguests.
My no-nonsense mother handled the extra bodies with grace; although in private, Danny received a stern tongue-lashing. Mom worked full-time and weekends were her time to do all the laundry, shopping, cooking and cleaning for the week. It wasn’t in her plans to entertain a house full of Marines. Her frustration went unheeded because the next weekend another group of guys would be camped out in our home.
These young men came from all parts of the country and were polite, respectful, but mostly they were appreciative of my mother’s hospitality and cooking. As quickly as the Marines landed, by late Sunday morning they’d be gone.
Sometimes, my brother would come home alone. We never knew when he’d appear, and his homecomings were always filled with surprise and excitement.
One time he came home driving a brand new Pontiac – big deal in the early 1960′s. Another time he came home with a black and white puppy. Naturally, the care of the puppy fell to my mother because Danny couldn’t take the dog back on base with him. One time, at age seven, I was being chased in our backyard by a pair of mean roosters with sharp beaks. My screams brought my brother running barefoot and shirtless wielding a hoe to scare off the vicious foul.
My brother served 20 years in the Marine Corps being deployed three times to Vietnam. He married and had two sons. Unfortunately, the marriage didn’t work out.
Later in life, in his mid-fifties, Danny had a brain aneurysm that caused a massive stroke. He wasn’t expected to live. He was in a coma for six weeks. I would get up at three in the morning so that, before going to work, I could softly play his favorite western music in his ear. When he came out of the coma, he was partially paralyzed on his right side and had some memory loss and trouble speaking.
While many people might be bitter under the same circumstances, not Danny. He was always cheerful, funny and didn’t feel at all sorry for himself.
I became his primary caregiver although he was pretty well self-sufficient. Mostly, I took care of his finances. Danny was determined to be the best that he could be and took great pride in doing things for himself. He got a motorized scooter and was often seen zipping around Simi Valley, hanging out at the bowling alley or eating at his favorite restaurants.
Eventually he wanted to move to Carson City to be near his sons. I helped him find a house to rent and arranged for the move. About a year after he moved to Nevada, he suddenly developed pancreatitis. For eight weeks, he was gravely ill, and then sadly, Danny passed away. I was devastated.
One of the possessions I brought back from Danny’s house was a favorite of his – a clock that was equipped with a pendulum. When I packed it, I’d unhooked the pendulum and taped it inside the clock, then wrapped the whole thing in a towel. And yet, when I unwrapped the clock I couldn’t find the pendulum.
I searched my SUV, the towel and the clock. I couldn’t imagine what had happened to pendulum. I never did find it. Months passed. I took my vehicle to the carwash numerous times. Eventually, I decided to sell my car. At the dealership as I was about to turn the keys over to the salesman, I decided to take one more quick look to be sure I had everything out of the car.
I got in the driver’s seat and checked the center console then I twisted in my seat to look at the back seat of the SUV. There, after eight months, centered perfectly in the rear seat of my car was the pendulum for the clock.
I miss my brother, but I also know that even though I can’t see him, he’s always with me. Happy Birthday Danny. Semper Fi.
What a wonderful, special story. {{hugs}} Though I’m sure Danny meant for you to find the missing pendulum, I have to say, we have one of those cars that coughs up lost items, sometimes months after they disappear. LOL We think it’s because she (yes, our car has a gender and a name – Bessie Lou) gets mad at us for ill treatment, poor washing habits, etc. and snatches things. Then she forgives us and gives the stuff back. Now, if my dryer would just cough up all the missing socks…
Semper Fi, Danny!
Hi Roz!
Welcome back!
I have no doubt he left that pendulum for me.
As far as your car goes…you’re not alone in naming your car. Mine is also female and her name is Trixie.
I’m sure that clothes dryers have some kind of a device plugged into them that sucks up one sock from every load.
Thanks for stopping by and writing!.
My brother passed away 18 years ago in March. I miss him, so much. So I know what you’re going through.
What a terrfic story, though, and what memories you have! Hugs, honey.
Happy Birthday, Danny, and Semper Fi!
Hi Christine!
Welcome back!
I’m sorry you lost your brother too. He must have been a young man as well. I think there is something special about brothers and sisters.
Thanks for stopping by…I know how busy you’ve been.
What a wonderful story! I guess you’re brother was still watching over you by making sure you had the pendulum. Brothers always like to play tricks on their younger sisters.
Hi Linda!
Welcome!
Danny was quite the prankster! Hiding the pendulum would have been right up his alley…but I suspect he didn’t ‘lose’ it – but I DO believe he wanted me to find it!
Thank you for stopping by and commenting.
Thanks for sharing this, Kathy. I really enjoyed reading it and could feel the love you had/have for your brother. *Hugs*
Hi Robin!
Welcome back!
Thank you. I do love him. His absence has left a real hole in my heart. However, I DO have my memories and I call on them often.
Thanks for visiting a leaving a comment.
It’s good to remember. Happy birthday, Danny! What a tender story and I’m glad you found the pendulum.
Hi Robena!
Welcome back!
I wish I’d had a video camera when I found that pendulum. He was one of a kind…that’s for sure.
Thanks for your comments, I appreciate your time.
HI Kathy – I remember your devotion to your brother and know how much you miss him. Thanks for a little more insight into his fascinating life. You’re a good sister, Kathy. The pendulum story is amazing. I have had similar things happen to me with my loved ones . I know Danny is with you!!
Hi Charlene!
Welcome back!
I have other ‘Danny’ stories since his passing, but none of them are as dramatic. The thing about helping him was that he made it so easy. If he’d been bitter or cranky, it would have been much harder.
Thanks for taking time out of your busy day to stop by.
Semper Fi! I thank him for his service. I know he also felt loved by you. You wrote a wonderful story about him. I know that family and taking care of them is highly important to you.
Hi Kate!
Welcome back!
Thank you. He was very proud to have been a Marine. I believe we have a responsibility to take care of our family members. It’s truly been a joy because the family members who have needed some help were always grateful, kind, and were never intentionally mean.
Thanks for coming by here and leaving a comment.
Hugs, Kathy! I’m sure Danny is up there watching over you
Sounds like he was a great older brother (protecting you from those ornery roosters), and you were a great little sister (taking care of him when he needed you). That’s the best definition of ‘family’ — helping each other when needed!
Leigh
Hi Leigh!
Welcome back!
Oh those roosters! What I didn’t say about the rooster story was that it was pouring rain – I’d been in the backyard trying to get the roosters free from being up to their bellies in mud!
Danny loved animals as much as I do, and I he never would have taken that hoe to the roosters – but they didn’t know that!
Thanks for taking time out of your day to comment.
Kathy. how absolutely beautiful and touching. What a wonderful man, what a wonderful sister. I needed to read something like this due to years of contention with my own brothers.
Thanks, my friend. And happy birthday in heaven, Danny.
Hi Tanya!
Welcome back!
Oh, I wish everyone could see how wonderful he was! But realistically, he wasn’t perfect
Prior to the stroke, if there was a room full of people, Danny needed to the center of attention at all times. However, it wasn’t a bad thing because he told the BEST stories! See? Even when I’m ‘dissing’ him, it comes out as a compliment!
Thanks for writing!
Semper Fi, Danny.
*hugs* to you, Kathy.
Thank you for sharing this story. I love the pendulum story- they are always with us, aren’t they?
Hi Alison!
Welcome!
Yes, I truly believe they are. This is the most dramatic example I have, but there have been lots of other things that let me know he AND my father are around me.
Thanks for visiting me here and leaving a comment.
Your brother sounds like a remarkable man. My brother was diagnosed with B Cell Lymphoma in 2010. The thought of losing him at the tender age of 36 was horrifying. Luckily, today he is a cancer survivor & we are closer than ever. Having a brother is one of the greatest gifts in my life. And yes, no matter what, they’re always with us.
Hi Lucie!
Welcome back!
Yikes! Only 36! What a scare! I’m so glad it worked out for him. I looked upon my brother as some of the spice in my life. You just never knew what he was going to do or say.
Thanks for stopping by and sharing your story about your brother.