The Limit Does Exist

It's very hard for me to come to terms with my limitations. Specifically, we are about two weeks away from the end of fundraising for the 2021 year and we're about 175,000 dollars away from my goal - to be the highest fundraising walk in the country.

At two weeks from the deadline, I have spent the majority of my year eating, breathing, sleeping the Walk to End Alzheimer's. I think you can also see this from my recent posts, as they are almost exclusively written about the event.

At this juncture, I have planned out the strategy and media for closing this gap to the best of my ability, I've asked for help, and I've run myself into the ground hyping up the community to achieve this feat.

But, it may not be enough. My best efforts might not get this 5,000-person event to where I've dreamed of it being for the last 12-plus months.

While that fact comes with disappointment and feelings I'm trying hard not to internalize, it doesn't negate what happened here this year.

Closer to a world without Alzheimer's

Not getting to number 1 doesn't rob us of having raised about 1.5 million dollars to find a cure for Alzheimer's. Not getting to No. 1 doesn't take away the new families and friends that we've brought into this community and in doing so, hopefully, have helped to ease their journey with Alzheimer's just a little bit. Not getting to No. 1 doesn't take away from the beautiful camaraderie and work ethic of the 50-some people who attempted to reach for that goal with me.

Grappling with familiar feelings

I can remember this crestfallen feeling as similar to one from another version of this life when my Poppop was still with us, and we'd have a successful family gathering filled with laughs and smiles. But it doesn't happen without at least the potential for the biting disappointment of Poppop being overwhelmed, of forgetting our names, of secluding to a distant corner.

I can imagine that this feeling of disappointment might be something caregivers learn to carry through their journey. With each day having the potential to bring about some new aspect of Alzheimer's, it can be hard to find one's footing.

Nevertheless, persist

But the thing is that this disappointment should not stop us from reaching for our dreams, for a cure, for those moments of bliss and happiness that are here and apparent if we can pause for a few seconds to live them, to seize them, and to hold tight to them.

I loved every minute of planning the 2021 walk with my staff partners and committee.

I treasure every memory I had with my Grandpop, even ones where he couldn't remember my name.

Each step is only temporary

As a caregiver, it might be super hard to find a silver lining sometimes, but I think it's that, in the ever-changing game that Alzheimer's plays, each step is only temporary.

This impermanence is both beautiful and heartbreaking. I might not be able to stop the rushing train of the end of the year from coming or the progressive disease of Alzheimer's from claiming more victims, but I've chosen to do something about it.

I've chosen to take moments of my time to try and, in doing so, I hope that I've made a difference.