Denny – 11

healing light 3

The wedding was for Gina and Dave, of course. i was flabbergasted. Why? And why now?  Oh my god, that poor girl, I thought. She’s saddled with these little girls, a new baby, plus she has a little boy of her own who stays with her mother. Does Dave even have a job or does he just live here with his mother? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. My only concern was my brother.

Another sleepless night ensued. Denny had a lot of pain which we couldn’t control. Tomorrow morning the hospice nurse was coming with some stronger meds. My sister and youngest brother were dropping by in the afternoon. Sheryl’s other son would be here too,  with his wife and three children, plus another son. And that night the pastor and a lot of people from the church would come for the wedding. I listened to my brother’s erratic breathing, the clamor from the cat box, and tried to quell the night demons battling for domination of my brain.


The following morning the hospice nurse upped the dosage, told Denny to take as much morphine as he wanted whenever he felt he needed it. She knew the end was near. My sister, her husband,  and my youngest brother arrived next. Sis had tracked down and bought Denny’s favorite CD of all time, Marty Robbins’ El Paso. Whenever we got together for our infrequent reunions, Denny would burst out in an exuberant song about falling in love with a Mexican girl. He chuckled a little about that while he listened and my sis and I put a fresh wrap around his fetid wound. My little brother could not face the truth about his big brother’s pain and imminent death. He stayed on the front porch, smoking, pacing, unable to come in and say his last goodbye.  Denny listened to El Paso over and over.

Denny -10



A wedding? I thought his mind was wandering, but I continued reading to the end, then read Annabel Lee until he finally slept.

It continued to snow and I fretted about slippery roads and a car full of kids. Sometime after ten the family SUV pulled into the driveway. The adults, talking excitedly, carried shopping bags. The kids stumbled in, looking tired and wired.

“Is someone getting married?” I said, taking one of the bags from Sheryl.


My sister in law sat her grocery sacks on the table and began unloading frozen vegetarian meals and snacks. They were all, except for Denny, Seven Day Adventists who followed the strict dietary laws of Leviticus in the Old Testament. Not only did they refrain from eating “unclean meat” such as pork and crustaceans, they did not eat meat at all. Strangely, they did not appear to eat vegetables either. They did not drink, and they did not smoke. All healthy life choices, but I could have killed for a beer, a glass of wine,  and a big juicy steak. Instead, I had this to look forward to.



“Yep. There’s going to be a wedding tomorrow night, right here. I wanted to make sure Denny didn’t miss it. That’s why we went shopping tonight, to buy food for the reception.” She put a stack of frozen of Morning Star Frozen Entrees and Tofurky sausages in the freezer. “Bean dip, salsa, chips, sausage bites, fruit punch. What do you think?”

“Sounds good. Umm, who’s getting married?”

“Dave and Gina, of course.”

Denny – 9


Denny smiled and closed his eyes again, his breath came in shallow gasps. “Will you do something for me?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Help me pee first. You don’t mind do you? Then read me a poem. The book is in the bedroom by the bed. I used to read Sheryl poems at night.”

I felt a lump in my throat and blinked back the tears. After I directed a weak stream of urine into the bedpan and emptied it in the toilet, I found the book and knew immediately where it had come from. One Hundred Best Loved Poems dated back to our time on Murphy Road. My mother subscribed to a book club only to receive the free selections, then canceled. This was one of them, and I had read it many times, knew some of the poems by heart. Evidently, so had Denny. The cover looked faded and worn, some of the pages dog-eared or stained.

“What do you want to hear?” I Said

“Poe, The Raven.”


As I read, Denny moved his lips in perfect sync with the words. Then, I thought he had fallen asleep, so I stopped.

He reached over and touched my arm. “Finish, then I’ll sleep. Tomorrow is a big day. A wedding.”

Denny – 8



That night the entire family decided to go out—shopping at Sam’s Club followed by dinner. They deserved a break, and I finally had quiet time to talk to Denny.  I fixed him a smoothie and sat beside his bed.

“Remember how I used to lead you into so much trouble when we were little kids, just you and me?” I said.

He chuckled. “That time we were playing in the old barn, jumping off the loft onto a pile of hay. I must have been seven and you nine.”

“Yeah, and we landed on a hornets nest. The doors were locked in the barn and we had to scramble out the window, and you weren’t moving fast enough for me.”

“So you pushed me out head first and we ran like hell to the house, screaming bloody murder.”

“A swarm of wasps hot on our tail.” We laughed at the memory. “And that time we were climbing the hills behind our house in Shasta and saw the mountain lion. We ran right through the stream, screaming bloody murder again, thinking that mountain lion was going to have us for lunch.”

“It’s a miracle he didn’t.” Denny smiled through the pain the wracked his body. He reached for the pill bottle, his hand shaking.

“I’ll get you some water,” I said. When I returned I opened the pill bottle and took two out.

“Make it three, this time,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

After he swallowed the morphine I asked if he was tired and wanted to rest.

“No, I want to talk some more. I’m glad you’re here. I was just thinking about that old horse.”



“That old fat work horse? We climbed on the wooden fence and jumped on his back—no reins, no saddle, no adults around. We rode double all over that field. He was a gentle old soul. Lucky for us,” I said. I pictured the broad back of the old roan, our legs sticking straight out, Denny holding my waist and me grasping the horse’s mane.

“Yeah, what were we? Still seven and nine? Fearless.”

“You and I were a team, not afraid to try anything.” I paused, thinking back. “I got scared once though. That time we got dropped off at the movie theater in Sparks while mom and Al went gambling. We were younger then, maybe seven and five. What the hell was that movie?”

“I don’t remember, Sandy. All I remember is you held my hand so tight I thought you would squeeze it off.”

I gave him a doubtful look. “It had a staircase. The Spiral Staircase I think. My god, why did they choose that movie? It still scares me.”

spiral staircase


Denny – 7


My brother’s wife continued to go to work every day, leaving the pregnant young woman in charge of the three girls and Denny’s care, plus the housework. It was too much for her, dirt and grime accumulated, mountains of dirty clothes grew in the girls’ room, and I could barely stand to use the bathroom. I decided to tackle one room at a time and start on the laundry. The washer and dryer sat in the kitchen, only a few feet from my recliner nest, so I didn’t have to leave Denny’s side. Washing turned out to be an unending task as there was always a new set of wet sheets and dirty laundry, but it provided me with a sense of usefulness and a sort of break.

goat walk



I also allowed myself a daily hour-long walk. With Spock on a leash, and followed by three dogs and a pair of goats, I explored the verdant hillsides and back roads of those Northern California foothills. The beautiful scenery and abundance of wildflowers provided a welcome diversion, the goats kicked up their heels, the dogs sniffed for rabbits. I filled my lungs with fresh clean air, but it was still early spring, and the weather changeable. On the third night of my stay, it snowed.

Denny – 6

“Life is not the way it’s supposed to be… It’s the way it is…The way we cope with it, is what makes the difference.”

First Snow

My brother Dennis Thomas and his son Tony, taken just three months before his death from melanoma.

Dad and I

One of Denny’s most urgent needs was the daily changing of a bandage covering an open wound behind his right arm pit. The six inch slice from a surgeon’s blade refused to heal or close. It stared back at me like a huge toothless grin, draining a putrid liquid that soaked the adult diaper used as a dressing. The first time I saw it I fought back a wave a nausea, swallowing the bile. I thought of a field hospital in Viet Nam, a scene from the TV show MASH, while I tended to that gaping, futile attempt at removing cancerous lymph nodes. A white powder that I never identified was dusted on the wound each day. That, and an increasingly larger dose of morphine, served as the only medication.

The three little girls were healthy, but damaged in some way. I immediately noticed erratic behavior, their inability to attend to anything. I learned they had been taken away from the drug-addled ex-girlfriend of the younger step-son. I could never figure out for sure if he was the father of one or more of these children, or what the relationship might be. The two youngest girls were crack babies, the eldest, an eight year old, seemed angry and mature beyond her years. The beautiful middle child wet the bed every night. She stared at me with her sweet smile and vacuous eyes, as empty as a bird’s nest in December, and never spoke a word. Denny loved them as if they were his grandchildren, and provided for their needs as best he could, and they loved him back.

Denny – 5



The interior seemed dark after the bright afternoon sun, closed in and sour smelling. I blinked, giving my eyes a minute to adjust. A hospital bed filled one end of the room, probably the dining room, as it was adjacent to the kitchen. My brother lay on his back, looking smaller than I remembered, his head elevated, his face lost in a scraggly beard, grey like the sheets, his blue eyes watery, mirroring pain. He smiled when he saw me, weak but sincere. When he lifted his hand I took it in both of mine, fighting tears, and cracked a grin. Two cats slept at his feet, two more meowed from the kitchen.

“Hey, little bro.”  I heard a blast of whistles, a blaring horn, and looked up to see basketball players racing maniacally up and down a court on the television set a few feet in front of Denny’s bed. March madness was in full swing, and I realized I could not save my brother.

I gradually became aware of other people in the house. Besides my sister in law I recognized Denny’s youngest son from his first marriage, his youngest adult son from his second marriage, a very pregnant young woman, and three beautiful and boisterous little girls racing around the room. Everyone proceeded to talk at once: introductions, questions, up-dates, basketball noise. I wanted some quiet time with my brother, but that was impossible. Chaos reigned in that house. After settling my dog in one of the empty stables I collapsed in the recliner beside Denny’s bed, and that is where I spent most of my time for the next five days, sleeping, eating, talking to Denny, and administering to his needs. The recliner became my home. Sleep became fleeting and erratic. The self-cleaning cat litter box cranked up and grumbled on a regular basis throughout the night.

Denny -4

for my brother

During that long drive to northern California, bumping along rutted old Highway 99 through the San Joaquin and then Sacrament Valleys, locked between endless produce trucks, I kept telling myself how tough he was, invincible in fact. Once I saw him, he and I would find a way to beat this, the way we always tackled problems. My mind flashed back to a long forgotten memory. I was eight, my brother six. We had come home from school to an empty house. We stood side by side, looking out the window, waiting for my mother or step father to pull into the driveway, but no one came. I made up my mind to find them—I took my brother by the hand and we went outside to search. We walked for blocks, and somehow I spotted our old hunched over black Dodge parked in front of a neighborhood bar. We crawled inside the car and waited. I don’t know what brought me to that place, or the circumstances afterward, but in my memory I saved him. Now, once again, I would take his hand and lead him to a safe place. He counted on me. We were a team.

I arrived in my hometown of Marysville late in the afternoon and stopped at a gas station to call Denny’s house for directions. About an hour later I found the turn off outside Browns Valley and followed it to a long dirt driveway through dense woods.  As soon as I parked in front of the rambling wood-frame house, two goats jumped off a wrap-around front porch and ran to greet me, hopping onto the hood of my Civic, then off again, frolicking, kicking up their heels. Three large dogs bounded up from the stables, barking loudly, tails wagging. Spock barked in response, but cowered and ran under the car when I let him out. My sister-in-law, looking tired and defeated, opened the front door and invited me in.


Denny – 3

The years passed, he gained two sons, divorced, remarried, and acquired three more adapted sons. He became a supervisor at his job, purchased a little ranch in the foothills, bought a couple horses, some goats, chickens, and acquired a menagerie of dogs and cats. This big red-headed Irishman never did anything half-heartedly.  He approached every endeavor with passion—whether it be coaching a women’s softball team, watching Giant’s and Forty-niner’s games, or working his little ranch. He laughed a lot, drank beer, sang out loud, always arrived late for family get-togethers, but arrived with a flourish.

we all die