This morning I was thinking how much I still need my big brother, Jerry O'Malley. He's on my mind since I'm going this week to our annual family reunion bash held at his backyard pool this 4th of July. We had a scare last month as he was rushed to the hospital via ambulance. He had an infection in his spine and is still on antibiotics. He seems to be on the mend but he wants to be off the antibiotics as it is affecting his sleep and energy level. Though I know all our lives are in the hand of the Lord, I prayed for his recovery. Over and over again I repeated the words, "We need him here." His wife surely needs him. His family needs him. His little baby sister still needs him-even though I'm 52. I will always need my 7 year older and wiser big brother.
We don't talk as much as we want to. This illness has given me an opportunity and excuse to have a more regular contact with him. I don't really know him like I want to. He's done way more for me and my own family than I ever have for him. In fact, I don't think I've done much of anything to help him. Though, I remember one birthday, he was a little hurt that I didn't remembered him on his birthday. I guess he wanted reassurance that I not only remember him but actually cared about him. But this post isn't about my failings as a sister, but rather the great influence my brother has and continues to have in my life. Oh how important he is to me! How he has helped me!
I don't have a lot of memories of my brother living inside the house. By the time I was more aware, I was living in his old bedroom (where he had played with matches and almost"burnt the house down" (A fact he admitted ON THE DAY he left for his mission to Mexico City). My earliest memories came from when he lived in our back house-a room connected to the garage. His little apartment became my refuge as I frantically knocked on the his door to let me in before my sister Kathy killed me for some reason or another. (Once again, this is not about my failings as a bratty, selfish baby sister.) This established a pattern of running to big brother when things got bad. Even though a knock became a phone call-he'd answer in his gentle way and invite me in. He'd let me cry. He'd listen. He'd comfort me. He'd give me advice. Though it's no longer listening to his guitar, singing, playing Battleship, Caroms, placing figurines on a vibrating football field or racing plastic beans down a maze- He continues to spend time hanging out with me giving freely of his time and attention.
My brother has a way of making me feel special. He also makes me feel like I am "neat." Jerry continues to give the greatest compliments. He is a builder of men and women. He knows that words matter and uses them to help. I'm sure he has criticized me, but I can't remember it. As a child I wanted him to think highly of me. I wanted to be worthy of his admiration and affection. I wanted to be like him. When I won the woo-wow top award at Hoover Jr. High that I didn't even know existed, it became significant to me just because my brother had won the same award 7 years earlier. How I wanted to follow in his footsteps.
More than anything, my brother was the closest thing I had to a righteous priesthood leader in the home. It was because of his heart and his desire to do what is right that our family found the Mormon church in the first place. He was a elementary school boy who WANTED to go to primary with his friends. He WANTED to be taught by the missionaries. He WANTED to be baptized. "And a little child shall lead them"-and my brother did, as both my mother and sister joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I was 3 years old and because of him, I grew up as a Mormon girl. I wrote to him every week when he was on his mission. I watched as he married the woman of his dreams and raise a wonderful family. I watched his keen desire to be obedient to every commandment. I have watched as he has served as bishop in his ward and in every other calling. He was a sober child, sober teenager, and sober man. His sober, serious yet fun demeanor, helped all of us deal with the adversity of growing up with an alcoholic father. He was the first one we would turn to when we needed a priesthood blessing. Of course he would be worthy-it was Jerry. He has been and continues to be a worthy vessel for the spirit of the Lord. We can feel it. He continues to lead with his righteous example. He is not perfect-but in the my eyes he is. He does everything right in my books; others agree. He's the only priesthood I've ever known and as such he has been a fine representative of Jesus Christ-doing his work-ministering to His children.
It's scary to think of losing my big brother. Who could I turn to then in times of trouble? Who would make me feel special? Who could lead the way? He is my physical example bearing witness of the eternal truth; I will always have my Savior, Jesus Christ- My Big Brother. I need not fear. He is always there. He will never leave me. He too wants me to remember him. He wants me to know him. I know Jerry O'Malley won't be around forever, but I am so hoping that we can all be like the aunties (now in their 90's) sitting around his pool sipping lemonade on the 4th of July. This is what I envision. What a blessing he is in my life! How I need my big brother!
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