Global ALS/MND Awareness Day- Never Lose Hope

“You don’t lose hope, love. If you lose hope, you lose everything.”Mrs Potts , Belle’s Magical World

Today is Global ALS/MND Awareness Day. On this day, we honor and support people with ALS, as well as their caregivers, families and all who support them. August will mark eight years since Ben left this world, free from his struggle with the disease. Today, I want to offer some wisdom from Mrs. Potts of Beauty and the Beast fame: “You don’t lose hope, love. If you lose hope, you lose everything.”

I have written often about Ben’s bravery and persistence. It has taken me a long time to come to understand that I was brave in a different way. And, I can honestly say that hope played a tremendous part in our lives. There was hope that things would get better and we would find innovative ways to help him eat, use his electronics, and maintain a good quality of life. There was hope that the next day would be less stressful. There was hope that each day would have some smiles and laughs. There was hope that I would remain patient. There was hope that Ben would accept that his needs were increasing. There was hope that he would have more time. There was hope that the disease would progress slowly. There was hope that he would transition peacefully.

Was it naïve to hope? Was it like my tossing coins in Cinderella’s Wishing Well? I don’t think so. To wish is to hope, and I have often written about wishes on this blog. Hope allowed me to reach for optimism. It allowed me to see the positive things, even if the big picture was not good. It allowed me to recognize and be relieved and content that one day was better than the prior one, not because the ALS was getting better or going away, but maybe because we were in better moods or successfully solved a problem. Hope allowed me to fantasize in a healthy way, remembering wonderful times and trying to recreate those and create new ones. It allowed me to be a creative thinker. It allowed me to smile, even through tears.

Hope was my pixie dust. Because I had hope, I was able to open my mind to finding ways to help Ben and to help myself. Hoping beyond hope that Ben would transition peacefully gave me the mindset to work towards making that happen. Love let me cope with the moments when hope was waning.

Hope also has helped me get through grief. It has allowed me to envision a positive future without Ben but with love. It allows me to seek opportunities to help others who are dealing with ALS. It has inspired me to raise awareness about student family caregivers and to find ways to support these students in the school where I teach.

I still have hope and I do make wishes. I hope that I always honor Ben’s memory in a way that he would appreciate. I hope that my blog and interactions with people affected by ALS will help and comfort them. I hope that I will find love again. I hope beyond measure that a cure will be found for this horrible disease.

In a way, hope is a gift, because it allows you to escape some harsh realities. I hope that all of my readers who are affected by ALS will find ways that inspire you to be hopeful and to see past the dark clouds to clear your mind, if only temporarily. There are reasons to be hopeful as we look at the research being done. There is also hope for comfort and the future as we look at the communities and forums of supportive and caring people that connect us because we share a deep bond of understanding and empathy.

Yes, this is Global ALS/MND Awareness Day. But, I hope that the determination never wanes to continue to raise awareness of ALS and the brave battles fought by people like my Ben.

I agree with Mrs. Potts. If you lose hope, you lose everything.

ALS,Caregiver,ALS Awareness Month,Walt Disney World, Mickey Mouse, Wishing Well
2011- A visit to the Wishing Well at Cinderella’s Castle to wish for a cure for ALS.

#Global ALS/MND Awareness Day #ALS #caregivers

Comforting Wisdom From Mufasa On Father’s Day

I’ve written in prior posts that my dad did not like attention on holidays like his birthday or Father’s Day. He preferred to do things for other people, and not necessarily on holidays.  For this reason, other than feeling a little displaced and lonely without a plan to spend time with my dad, the holiday does not really bring me down. After all, I already miss him. I think that the hardest part of holidays like this is that I am reminded that I don’t really have traditional family anymore because the family I was closest to are not here anymore (click here to see that post).  I do believe that they are always with me, and watching over me, and that is a comfort. The cardinals in Central Park remind me of that, too, which is one of the reasons I have become so attached to being there.  Still, there are those times that I just want to pick up the phone, or feel a touch. I don’t fight the moments of sadness, but I never lose sight of how fortunate I am to have them. I use this day to revisit posts I have written over the years, reflect on where I have been and where I am today, and think about the comforting good memories. Mostly, I find myself hoping that my dad would be proud of me and happy with decisions and choices that I have made in my life.

My dad, in one of his favorite photos, with our Miniature Schnauzer, Windy, at my Cornell graduation. Daddy liked to look serious, but he was quite the joker.

I have shared many memories of my dad, from his time in the Marine Corps to his love of animals to his sense of humor and wonderful laugh. More and more, I see how he has influenced who I am, in the good and not so good ways. People might think that I spoil Tinker Bell, as I did Disney and Tiffany, but I come from a family of pet spoilers! Daddy never minded that our dogs loved to chase the squirrels, though he would shake his head as they barked at the same tree while he knew the squirrel had probably climbed to the next village! We loved animals, and I’m sure that he would be thrilled at the little relationships I have developed with my Central Park buddies. He would also joke at how unhappy our schnauzers would be!

With all of the chaos in the world, I miss getting his perspective, particularly given his extensive knowledge of history and the military. I know that what is happening would have devastated him- he was a proud Marine and a patriot through and through and his mother was from Ukraine (I believe that my grandfather was from Russia, but the borders and countries changed so often then that it’s hard to say). As much as I miss his presence, I am actually grateful that he is not living through what seems to me to be the downfall of this country, but I miss the comfort of his explanations. Daddy was a yeller, and I know that he would be calling me to scream about every outrageous attempts to destroy our democracy. I did trust his judgment on world events because time and time again events did play out according to his predictions. I think back to the days of Dan Quayle, when Daddy and I would rush to the phone to call each other as soon as we heard one of his mistakes. I even got him a subscription to the “Dan Quayle Quarterly.” Now, in light of what he and I would definitely consider damage to the country, Dan Quayle’s errors would be a welcome bit of relatively harmless comic relief!

You could take the man out of the USMC but you couldn’t take the USMC (or the camouflage) out of the man!

This year, when I took some of the students from my club to the New York Aquarium, I recalled for them my own first visit with my parents and how my dad laughed when I saw a real octopus. I thought it would look as cute as the ones in the cartoons! I have a real love of octopi now, especially because they remind me of my dad. I treated the students to the tickets and to lunch, which they appreciated, and I know that it is something Daddy would have done. I don’t deny that teaching content is not where my heart is these days, but the moments of imparting life lessons and fostering compassion and kindness is a legacy left by my parents and became an actual part of my teaching experience when Daddy was alive. When he was alive, he often contributed to supplies for the arts projects I did with the kids. I remember at parents conferences, several parents asked how he was because the kids went home and expressed concern that he was having surgery and/or was in the hospital. I did not discuss it much with them but I did let them know when I would be absent due to a medical issue of my dad’s. Daddy’s kind generosity is what I emphasized with my students and what has surfaced so beautifully in members of my school club. The students are kind and I am touched when they say that my compassion inspires them. Really, those qualities were gifts from my parents. When I see the many students who do not have fathers to celebrate, for a variety of reasons, I know exactly how fortunate I have been in my life. Sometimes, it has been those very students who most value hearing about my dad and hearing me say things he taught me, such as “you get more with honey than with vinegar.” While I always enjoyed bringing new experiences to the kids, an added and especially touching aspect of this involvement of my dad was that for many kids, we were providing a feeling of being cared for, a real idea of family.

My students looking at the octopus as I did with my dad.

Today, I also remember that Daddy never wanted me to be sad. Believe it or not, he was not a huge fan of Disney or animation, but when I showed him videos of my Walt Disney World visits with Ben, he beamed because he said he loved to hear me laugh and happy. I cannot count the number of people who stopped me to tell me that I was my dad’s world. He was the consummate pessimist, except when it came to me and my potential, and I was his consummate cheerleader. At a time when I am pursuing writing and other ideas, I must to constantly summon the confidence my dad had in me that I have never had in myself.

Camera on his shoulder, Daddy always wanted to be the photographer, not the photographed!

Mufasa told Simba, “The great kings of the past look down on us from those stars…So, whenever you feel alone, just remember that those kings will always be there to guide you. And, so will I.” Daddy would be humbled that I remember him, which is so odd to me, because he is always with me and is so much of who I am and what I aim to accomplish. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of or mention him, and hope that I do justice to him and his values. Thank you, Daddy, for the lessons you taught me, the laughs and sense of humor you shared, the moral compass and patriotism you instilled in me, and the unconditional love and generosity you showed me.

I love you and miss you, on Father’s Day and every day!