I was looking through photos the other day and came across this one:
My heart caught in my throat. I must have stared at this image for at least 20 minutes and it has been in my mind for days. The photo quality isn’t great. There may be nothing special about it to anyone else. Why would it catch my attention like it did?
This photo was taken in 2009. Just three years ago.
It’s of my husband. He has his arms in the air. He is jumping. He looks so…..healthy. Happy. Whole.
Each day, we muck through ALS. Things have changed in a way that we have been able to adjust to it. Things almost seem normal, most of the time. As each day passes, I forget a little more about what our lives used to be. We live a new kind of normal now, in which nothing is normal at all. And it’s just been three years. That’s a blip in time. How much has changed. How quickly, yet how slowly, our life as we knew it, is being torn from us.
Every once in a while, I am reminded how much we have lost. How abnormal our lives have become because of this disease.
And my heart drops. The tears fall. And I pray, why God? Why is this happening?
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