Walk to Defeat ALS
ALS is cruel.
It doesn’t care how old you are.
It doesn’t care how loved you are.
It doesn’t care how much life you still have left to live.
Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis strips a person of everything—movement, speech, the ability to eat, to breathe—while leaving their mind fully intact. It’s a slow and devastating prison. There’s no cure. No clear cause for so many. And every year, more people— even young, healthy people — are diagnosed without warning.
This year marks our 19th ALS Walk as a family. My dad only got to walk beside us for two of them. Just two. ALS took him before the third. But he’s still the heart of this team. He named it. He designed the shirts. He showed up to those walks with everything he had left. This photo is from his first walk with us, he lost his battle with ALS the following year.
As I grow older, I grieve him in new ways. I don’t just miss the dad I had; I miss the grandpa he never got to be. I picture him meeting Brody. I dream about hearing his laugh again, hugging him again, watching him grow old alongside my mom. ALS stole all of that. It stole the future we were supposed to have.
And that’s why I still walk. Every single year. I walk with grief in one hand and hope in the other. Hope that one day, no more families will lose someone they can’t bear to live without.
If you’re able to donate, the link is in the comments. Thank you for reading—and for walking with us in spirit.
It doesn’t care how old you are.
It doesn’t care how loved you are.
It doesn’t care how much life you still have left to live.
Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis strips a person of everything—movement, speech, the ability to eat, to breathe—while leaving their mind fully intact. It’s a slow and devastating prison. There’s no cure. No clear cause for so many. And every year, more people— even young, healthy people — are diagnosed without warning.
This year marks our 19th ALS Walk as a family. My dad only got to walk beside us for two of them. Just two. ALS took him before the third. But he’s still the heart of this team. He named it. He designed the shirts. He showed up to those walks with everything he had left. This photo is from his first walk with us, he lost his battle with ALS the following year.
As I grow older, I grieve him in new ways. I don’t just miss the dad I had; I miss the grandpa he never got to be. I picture him meeting Brody. I dream about hearing his laugh again, hugging him again, watching him grow old alongside my mom. ALS stole all of that. It stole the future we were supposed to have.
And that’s why I still walk. Every single year. I walk with grief in one hand and hope in the other. Hope that one day, no more families will lose someone they can’t bear to live without.
If you’re able to donate, the link is in the comments. Thank you for reading—and for walking with us in spirit.