A Month of Gratitude
It’s November, a month that prides itself in being shifty. The short dark days drag by, yet yet by the end of the month we find ourselves waking to the start of the pre-holiday season.
When looking at it logically, it seems bizarre that we start the holidays with a day of giving thanks for all we have in our life. Then BINGO! The clock strikes midnight, the stores open, and the world shifts into a month-long frenzy of shopping, buying and exchanging more material stuff. Hopefully, this year we can all pause long enough during the chaos to relax a bit and appreciate our special friends and neighbors.
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Last month, I shared a story about a Halloween stunt I pulled on my Little Brother Scott in 1980. This year, I also shared time with Scott on Halloween. This year, however, the time was much more somber. On Halloween I was at Scott's bedside in a hospital after he had a semi-truck accident at work.
The piece below is a tribute to the wonderful man and brother who was a gift in my life for the past 44 years.
May your holidays this year be filled with joy and gratitude. Thank you for your support.
Dennis "DJ" Quinn
The Brothers ~ Scott & DJ, August 2003
Sixteen Thousand Three Hundred and Three Days
A Tribute
It was Halloween morning 2024, a dark morning with pouring rain that was forecasted to turn to snow by afternoon. Near the end of a hall in the Surgery Intensive Care Unit of Hennepin County Medical Center, I peeked into a room. He was still there, lying in the bed. His eyes moved erratically behind closed eyelids that had not opened since the semi-truck accident ten days earlier. As medical monitors flashed on either side of him, I looked for hope, searched for anything that might have changed overnight. There was none.
His chest rose and fell as a machine pushed and pulled air through tubes that disappeared into his body through his mouth. In, out, in, out. The rhythmic puffs of air were the only sounds in the room. I shook his shoulder, rubbed his arm, and told him I was there. I told him I loved him. Then I sat on the couch at his bedside. There was nothing else to say, nothing I could do.
Exactly 16,303 days before, I knocked on an apartment door in Burnsville, Minnesota. When his mother Jennifer answered the door, I walked inside and met Scott, my new Little Brother in the Big Brothers Big Sisters program. On that evening we met years ago I was nervous, excited, and didn’t know what to expect.
On this cold morning in Minneapolis, 16,303 days after that first happy hello, I had come to say goodbye. The decision had been made to remove has life support systems later today. I was nervous, heartbroken, and once again, I didn’t know what to expect. The waves of grief that had been pounding me since I heard of his accident had eased a bit. It felt okay just to pause, to sit beside my Little Brother, and to reflect.
As I watched him breathe, a deep sense of gratitude arose inside me. I was aware of how lucky I was to have met Scott, and my mind filled with memories of times we had shared together. I closed my eyes, and saw flashes of sporting events we attended, of his little league games, and of us trying to reel in our kites as a severe storm roared toward us. I could hear the laughs we shared as I taught him how to drive, and once again felt the pride of standing beside him as his best man when he married Tammy. I remember the honor of being his son Michael’s godfather. I re-lived the adventures Scott and I shared traveling around Minnesota, and the vacations we took to Montana, Colorado, and Washington DC.
From our first outing for pizza in 1980 until our final time together in August 2024 when we spread his late wife Tammy’s ashes in Washington s Olympic Mountains, he had been my Brother and friend. He was a quiet, strong guy, who as a kid demonstrated determination and courage in living his life. Through our time as Big and Little Brothers, my commitment to him helped me find stability in my own life.
It was my great fortune to watch Scott grow to become a man who was a good son, husband, father, and grandfather. He showed enormous strength through Tammy’s cancer struggle, and gave unwavering support to his daughter Amanda during her health battles. Along with Tammy, Scott stepped up to provide a safe home and a firm foundation for his granddaughter Danielle. After Tammy’s passing, Scott’s own persistent effort pulled him through recovery from surgery that removed a brain tumor. He was the rock of his family, and he was an inspiration to me.
There have been a few times in my life when sudden events shook me to the core. Scott’s unexpected death was one of them. His passing knocked the wind out of me, and it rattled my spiritual foundation. It was one of those times when it did no good to ask WHY, because there was no answer.
The better question became WHAT. What did I learn? What did it all mean? What could I take from the time I shared with him?
Among my grief and my concern for what Scott s family will face on the road ahead, that Halloween morning at his bedside gave me time to appreciate what Scott had given me. He gave me the gift of friendship, hope, and joy. He was a Brother I was immensely proud of, and he was a great man. I will always treasure the laughter we shared together during our 44-year journey.
In saying goodbye and walking away from his bedside, the pain was immense. I walked away knowing deep in my heart that those 16,303 days we shared together were not nearly enough.
Rest in peace my Brother. I will miss you.