I am off in a few minutes to pick up Mary, Rose, and Quinn. I consider myself tremendously fortunate to have met my grandchildren. I did not expect this to happen. I consider myself tremendously fortunate to have lived long enough to get to know them a bit, to see their personalities arise. It is my sincere hope that they will remember me after ALS takes me from them.
It's on days like this when I think of those terrible situations faced by those younger than me who are struggling with this terrible disease; young adults who have yet to have children, should they have wanted them; young parents with small children who live in the shadow of this vale of death; parents with teenagers facing this monster, needing to reverse the role of child and parent. On days like this, where I get to enjoy the pleasure of my young grandchildren, I count myself lucky.
Even my own children did not get to meet their grandfather. My ex-wife's dad died shortly before I met her, when she was only 18. He did not get to hear the laughter of my children when they were small, nor see them grow, accomplish, and have children of their own. My children's children get to meet me, get to spend a day or two with me every now and again, get to know who I am. I am thankful for even this.
The biggest challenge of the day will be my own energy level. I don't have my power wheelchair. There will be much running and going and stopping and starting throughout the balance of the day. I will do my best; it's a rare chance for me. Yet I know this will ultimately wear me out. It's worth it. I just know I will have to plan for it, make allowances, adjustments. And then the evening will come, where the kids will be asleep and we, Mary, Ray, Mom, and I, will sit and talk, spending a quiet evening together. That will be good too.
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