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My Turn: A quiet presence
By Cathy Landry, News Editor
Tuesday, December 16, 2008 2:06 PM EST
Steve was always a quiet presence, but we knew he was there, watching, waiting, ready to give advice if asked or to catch us when we fell.
Isn’t that the what big brothers are for?
As the oldest sibling in my family, Steve was always there, quiet, but solid as a rock.
Of course, I didn’t realize this as we were growing up. He was 10 years older than me, and he always seemed out of reach as he was the first to do everything in the family from starting school to graduating from college to getting married and contributing the first grandchildren.
I was a teenager before I really realized how neat my big brother Steve was, and now as I think back, maybe we were more alike than I thought we were. We both majored in journalism in college — he at the University of Michigan, me at the University of Missouri. We both worked at several newspapers — all of his jobs were in Northern Michigan while I moved around the country. He sold newspaper advertising most of his career; I was a reporter, editor and even a newsroom systems analyst. His dream job was working at the Traverse City Record-Eagle, which he fulfilled. The New York Times, the Washington Post, the Boston Globe and other big-time papers filled my dreams. I never got close to any of them, but I am not at all unhappy with how my career has unfolded.
Isn’t that the what big brothers are for?
As the oldest sibling in my family, Steve was always there, quiet, but solid as a rock.
Of course, I didn’t realize this as we were growing up. He was 10 years older than me, and he always seemed out of reach as he was the first to do everything in the family from starting school to graduating from college to getting married and contributing the first grandchildren.
I was a teenager before I really realized how neat my big brother Steve was, and now as I think back, maybe we were more alike than I thought we were. We both majored in journalism in college — he at the University of Michigan, me at the University of Missouri. We both worked at several newspapers — all of his jobs were in Northern Michigan while I moved around the country. He sold newspaper advertising most of his career; I was a reporter, editor and even a newsroom systems analyst. His dream job was working at the Traverse City Record-Eagle, which he fulfilled. The New York Times, the Washington Post, the Boston Globe and other big-time papers filled my dreams. I never got close to any of them, but I am not at all unhappy with how my career has unfolded.
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As our lives were rolling along, however, our roles became reversed in a way that I would never have imagined.
At the age of 30, my brother was found to have a brain tumor. I was happily ensconced in college and this rude intrusion was something that I did not want to have to deal with, but because of the situation, I felt compelled to become my brother’s keeper after all the years he had been looking out for me. My other brother, sister and I seemed to be more worried about Steve and the situation than he was when doctors gave him a year or two to live.
Maybe in his quiet presence he knew more than we did as the most amazing thing happened — he lived 22 years after the initial tumor was found and operated on.
In those 22 years, he was able to see his daughters grow up and I was able to continue to witness his quiet, strong presence.
I’ll admit that for many of those 22 years, I did not pay much attention to my brother. As long as I knew he was breathing, I continued forging my own path in this world. For a time, circumstances beyond my control kept me from seeing him as often as I would have liked even when his health began turning and I felt his time here with us was limited.
I know now that God gave me a precious gift when I was able to spend more time with him during his last year of life. By this time, Steve had been living in Gaylord for a number of years and I would hop in my van and head north whenever I could.
I loved the fact that he was able to meet my dog, Beau, and loved to hear how that single meeting touched my brother’s life for days to come as he was hospitalized with various ailments and one final brain surgery the last months of his life. Apparently during one hospital stay, my sister-in-law was asking Steve questions and just trying to get him to say simple words.
She asked him what I had brought to see him some weeks earlier. All she wanted him to say was the word “dog,” but without blinking an eye, my brother responded, “Beau.” It still gives me shivers when I recall this story and know that my dog had such a positive effect on my brother. I brought Beau’s picture to the hospital room to stand among other family mementos and when shown that photo, my brother always called Beau by name.
It is still hard for me to believe that Steve has been gone five years exactly to this day. He left this earth on Wednesday, Dec. 17, 2003.
The last time we visited, Steve was on his way to Cleveland Clinic for what would be his final operation. That was in September 2003. I was not able to see him again, but I am a firm believer that our last meeting was how God wanted me to remember him.
I’ll never forget the image of him sitting at my kitchen table, eating a bowl of oatmeal, surrounded by family and always his quiet presence.
— Cathy Landry is news editor of the Gaylord Herald Times. Contact her at 748-4515 or cathy@gaylord heraldtimes.com.
At the age of 30, my brother was found to have a brain tumor. I was happily ensconced in college and this rude intrusion was something that I did not want to have to deal with, but because of the situation, I felt compelled to become my brother’s keeper after all the years he had been looking out for me. My other brother, sister and I seemed to be more worried about Steve and the situation than he was when doctors gave him a year or two to live.
Maybe in his quiet presence he knew more than we did as the most amazing thing happened — he lived 22 years after the initial tumor was found and operated on.
In those 22 years, he was able to see his daughters grow up and I was able to continue to witness his quiet, strong presence.
I’ll admit that for many of those 22 years, I did not pay much attention to my brother. As long as I knew he was breathing, I continued forging my own path in this world. For a time, circumstances beyond my control kept me from seeing him as often as I would have liked even when his health began turning and I felt his time here with us was limited.
I know now that God gave me a precious gift when I was able to spend more time with him during his last year of life. By this time, Steve had been living in Gaylord for a number of years and I would hop in my van and head north whenever I could.
I loved the fact that he was able to meet my dog, Beau, and loved to hear how that single meeting touched my brother’s life for days to come as he was hospitalized with various ailments and one final brain surgery the last months of his life. Apparently during one hospital stay, my sister-in-law was asking Steve questions and just trying to get him to say simple words.
She asked him what I had brought to see him some weeks earlier. All she wanted him to say was the word “dog,” but without blinking an eye, my brother responded, “Beau.” It still gives me shivers when I recall this story and know that my dog had such a positive effect on my brother. I brought Beau’s picture to the hospital room to stand among other family mementos and when shown that photo, my brother always called Beau by name.
It is still hard for me to believe that Steve has been gone five years exactly to this day. He left this earth on Wednesday, Dec. 17, 2003.
The last time we visited, Steve was on his way to Cleveland Clinic for what would be his final operation. That was in September 2003. I was not able to see him again, but I am a firm believer that our last meeting was how God wanted me to remember him.
I’ll never forget the image of him sitting at my kitchen table, eating a bowl of oatmeal, surrounded by family and always his quiet presence.
— Cathy Landry is news editor of the Gaylord Herald Times. Contact her at 748-4515 or cathy@gaylord heraldtimes.com.
3 comment(s)
cathy wrote on Dec 18, 2008 7:37 PM:
" Thank you so much for sharing your story. I know from my experience that God blesses us in ways that that we could never imagine. That goes for my bother's story. I could never imagine that he would have lived for 22 years after receiving what I considered a death sentence. But God truly had other plans for him and that in turn tremendously blessed Steve's family. "
Brian Morgan wrote on Dec 16, 2008 11:34 PM:
" I am deeply touched by your article. I feel compelled to share several thoughts with you and the readers here. First, that quiet presence that you describe is something which I have experienced personally but in a different context.
You see, this past August I suffered a massive heart attack. My "lad" or left anterior descending coronary artery was completely blocked. This required an angioplasty with a stent to keep the artery open (hopefully for life).
Going through such an unexpected event (I work out regularly and never had any indication of coronary artery disease), cause me to experience something a few months later which I can never forget.
Several months later I went back to the hospital to see how my heart was doing. I was finally a "cardiolite" stress test where they inject a radioactive die into your arteries to see how the blood is flowing, to see if any other blockages have occurred.
The test results came back normal. My cardiologist told me and I quote "you passed with flying colors Mr. Morgan".
Upon walking back to my car in the parking lot of Northern Michigan Hospital, I was naturally eager to share this good news with family and friends.
However something stopped me dead in my tracks (pun intended). There is a verse in the Old Testament about that "still small voice" which spoke to the Prophet Elijah.
I had the same thing. The Lord spoke to me in a still small voice and asked me "Who are you going to thank for this good news"?
Again and again this thought kept coming into my mind. I was frozen. I was barely able to drive thinking about this issue.
I finally made it to the casino in Petoskey (for lunch only) where the answer was clear. I HAD to thank God for my good fortune that day.
When I began to praise God, I began to cry. Over and over again I cried like a child. Even though I am a middle aged man of 51, when one encounters the allmighty in their heart, we are HIS children.
The tears flowed and my thoughts of gratitude and praise towards my Lord were made manifest in prayer and thanksgiving.
What struck me the MOST about this experience was how BIG I felt God to be. I sense not only HIS quiet presence but his HUGE almost infinite capacity for love and understanding.
I believe that all good things come from God. That quiet presence you witnessed in your brother came to him from God.
Yet when encountering God directly through an epiphany brought about by tragedy OR triumph, we can witness first hand how incredibly powerful, big, and loving our heavenly master truly is.
Before leaving my vehicle to get lunch, other words of the Lord kept coming into my mind. The most powerful were these: "With God all things are possible".
Indeed. With HIM all things ARE possible.
God Bless You and may all of us appreciate what I have shared here in ways appropriate to our experience and temperment.
The greatest gift of all is love. The Lord Gods love is truly awesome and so are the possibilities of those who believe.
"All things are possible". "
You see, this past August I suffered a massive heart attack. My "lad" or left anterior descending coronary artery was completely blocked. This required an angioplasty with a stent to keep the artery open (hopefully for life).
Going through such an unexpected event (I work out regularly and never had any indication of coronary artery disease), cause me to experience something a few months later which I can never forget.
Several months later I went back to the hospital to see how my heart was doing. I was finally a "cardiolite" stress test where they inject a radioactive die into your arteries to see how the blood is flowing, to see if any other blockages have occurred.
The test results came back normal. My cardiologist told me and I quote "you passed with flying colors Mr. Morgan".
Upon walking back to my car in the parking lot of Northern Michigan Hospital, I was naturally eager to share this good news with family and friends.
However something stopped me dead in my tracks (pun intended). There is a verse in the Old Testament about that "still small voice" which spoke to the Prophet Elijah.
I had the same thing. The Lord spoke to me in a still small voice and asked me "Who are you going to thank for this good news"?
Again and again this thought kept coming into my mind. I was frozen. I was barely able to drive thinking about this issue.
I finally made it to the casino in Petoskey (for lunch only) where the answer was clear. I HAD to thank God for my good fortune that day.
When I began to praise God, I began to cry. Over and over again I cried like a child. Even though I am a middle aged man of 51, when one encounters the allmighty in their heart, we are HIS children.
The tears flowed and my thoughts of gratitude and praise towards my Lord were made manifest in prayer and thanksgiving.
What struck me the MOST about this experience was how BIG I felt God to be. I sense not only HIS quiet presence but his HUGE almost infinite capacity for love and understanding.
I believe that all good things come from God. That quiet presence you witnessed in your brother came to him from God.
Yet when encountering God directly through an epiphany brought about by tragedy OR triumph, we can witness first hand how incredibly powerful, big, and loving our heavenly master truly is.
Before leaving my vehicle to get lunch, other words of the Lord kept coming into my mind. The most powerful were these: "With God all things are possible".
Indeed. With HIM all things ARE possible.
God Bless You and may all of us appreciate what I have shared here in ways appropriate to our experience and temperment.
The greatest gift of all is love. The Lord Gods love is truly awesome and so are the possibilities of those who believe.
"All things are possible". "
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sugarcane wrote on Dec 30, 2008 10:49 PM: