My husband and I were looking forward to being empty nesters. Then my brother with Down syndrome asked if he could move in.

The week before my husband and I were supposed to become empty nesters, piles of laundry, bedding, suitcases, pink sparkly boots, Oregon Ducks hats, and shirts crowded the living room of our small cottage.

Some of the piles belonged to our daughter, on her way to a university residence hall. Some belonged to my 50-year-old brother Mark, who has Down syndrome, and asked in August if he could move in with us.

We were very close growing up

My brother was born without any health issues, a robust, blond-haired baby, in 1975. "He'll never be able to walk or talk," doctors told my parents and suggested he should be institutionalized.

Instead, my mother brought him home, enrolled him in pediatric physical therapy, and treated him just as she treated me. We camped, hiked, baked cookies, and did arts and crafts. Mark and I became friends and allies, particularly after our parents' bitter divorce.

When Mom died seven years ago, he moved to a group home, but I felt he could do better living with me. My family discussed the pros and cons of inviting him to move in with us, just as we would if one of my husband's siblings wanted to become our housemate. In the end, we welcomed him with delight.

He wants to work and feel useful

I'm a former job coach for adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities. I know how few employers take a chance on hiring someone with a condition they don't understand. My brother wants to work, to feel of use in the world, and I'm eager to help with the job search, but it's going to take some time. In the meantime, he needs to stay busy.

In September, I dropped my daughter off at her residence hall and turned Entertainment Director and chauffeur again. I reached out to our local Parks and Rec, the YMCA, arts organizations, and a dance studio. I registered him for classes daily so that he could make friends and integrate into the community.

Our community has responded in beautiful ways. Now, when Mark walks into the YMCA, trainers and fellow bodybuilders greet him by name. He's got friends at the rec center. Yes, there are challenges. I bring my laptop with me everywhere so I can grab an hour of work in the car, at the dance studio, or in the YMCA lobby. Mark needs help showering and walking up stairs, and he'd prefer my husband and me to lounge on the couch with him, watching movies instead of working. But he's a loved and valued member of our family.

It took one long, exhausting month to deal with the laundry piles and activity planning, as well as help decorate a dorm room with pink flamingos and fluffy pink rugs, and our spare room with Kobe Bryant and Michael Jackson posters.

Mark looks forward to using a door-to-door shuttle for people with disabilities and to getting a job.

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