It’s August 4. Again.


Danny and I in Montana

He came into this world on this day in 1947. He left this world on December 13, 2010. Ten days earlier he had attended the Christmas Concert of the San Luis Obispo Vocal Arts. He saw and listened to his sister and his niece sing.

And then he was gone.

I have written about him countless times. I will continue to do so.

I remember well the hike we took in Montana. It was hot and I was not used to hiking around with a long-legged horseman. I was hot and tired and so happy to be with him.

The only death penalty criminal case that I have ever tried had just finished. My brain was numb from the pressure and the death verdict. I had given every ounce of energy I had to that trial. I had nothing left. Even the forming of words into sentences was beyond my capabilities at that moment.

So he took we for a long, fast hike. Of course, to get to the canyon he wanted to hike, we had to take a short, fast ride on his Harley.

He didn’t try to make me talk. He didn’t ask how I was. He put the wind in my hair and made my heart muscle work.

And I began to talk. He listened. He made no comments. He just listened.

He heard all the frustration and angst and fear and self-doubt and…and…and..

He never judged. He never tried to “fix it”.

We hiked for what seemed miles.

It was the beginning of the healing for me and the cementing of our adult relationship.

I miss him. Every. Single. Day.

PS. for those who would like to read more about Dan and my recollections of my brother here are some links.

https://muellermusings.com/2020/08/04/remembering-danny/

https://muellermusings.com/2018/10/05/truckin/

https://muellermusings.com/2018/08/04/899/

https://hairballgazette-california.blogspot.com/

Categories: Brothers, Daniel, Family, griefTags: , ,

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