Depending on your personal beliefs, saying goodbye could mean, see you later, see you again, or never see someone again. None can be discounted because it’s a deeply personal matter. Regardless of this, saying goodbye is extremely difficult and, yes, also very personal.

Living with ALS, if you do, in fact, live beyond the typical prognosis, experience goodbye all too often. More so if you connect with the community. This is especially difficult for survivors of ALS, caregivers, family, and friends who remain in the community. Every loss is painful, but when you come to know individuals and their families, you are connected beyond just ALS.

You connect through the common ground of life. You come to realize that we as humans move beyond lables such as jobs, careers, titles, and more when faced with our mortality. ALS does this for most of us. The beautiful humans we become when we are stripped bare of all pretense, make goodbyes that much more painful. Yet there is a release of sorts that accompany these goodbyes. The knowledge of knowing our friend no longer suffers from this detestable disease.

The heartache now belongs to their families. Now having to endure the loss and move on without the physical presence of their loved one. The hugs, the prayers, and condolences, appreciated, yes, but do little to alley the pain.

Still, we press on and honor their memories by continuing to fight for those to come. We take a moment to honor them by reflecting in silence. Afterward, their memories drive us to continue. Their words continue to inspire us. Their character and strength propelles us forward.

We must honor them by never wavering in the face of ALS. Never wavering in the face of “No, you can’t!” We must honor them with our actions and by using their memories to fortify our own resolve.

Godspeed friends, until we meet again; sound of mind and body.

TJO