Their Footprints are Still Here

Today is bittersweet. Today we say our final goodbye to someone who was instrumental in starting all of this. He was there on Day One. He pushed me to do more because he knew we needed more for our Parkinson's community. More than just an exercise class-we needed support, education, friendships, and a place where people felt like they belonged. He believed in us and what we were doing and I believe he knew what it could become. Then true to his fashion, he moved to Tampa and did it all over again. He found another group, got involved and became an important part of their Parkinson's community too.

That was just him. If he saw something that needed to be done, he wanted to help make it happen.

Over the past six months, we have lost too many of our fighters. Even as I am writing this I just learned of another one. I'm not going to lie, it has been hard. These aren't just people who come to an exercise class. We know their spouses and their families. We now who is going to make everybody laugh and who is going to send me that dirty look when I say everyone is getting on the floor. They never complain-ever. We know when someone is having a good day and when they aren't. We celebrate victories that most people outside of this world would probably never understand.

And we notice when someone isn't there.

After 15 years of working with people with Parkinson's, you would think that I would get better at this part. I haven't. You know that it's progressive, you go to conferences, you learn from some of the top researchers in this field, and you know all the statistics. None of that makes losing someone you care about any easier.

There is so much joy in what we do. We laugh-a lot. Friendships have been made between people who probably never would have met if Parkinson's hadn't brought them into the same room. I've watched people do things they didn't think they could do anymore. I've watched someone get out of a chair by themselves, take larger steps and walk further, get on and off the floor by themselves, throw a harder punch, and speak a little louder. I've watched people walk through our doors on days when I know it would have been much easier to stay home.

Those are big victories around here.

But along with all of that comes grief, and lately we have had more than our share. I call our people fighters, but not because I think someone who can fight hard enough to beat Parkinson's. That's not what I mean at all. They're fighters because they keep living and they're fighters because they know they can slow this disease down. They keep moving when moving gets harder. They adjust when life changes and accept help when they need it, and even when they don't particularly like needing it. They make friends, they love their families and they keep showing up.

That is what I want to remember about the people that are no longer with us. I don't want Parkinson's to be the first thing I remember about them. I want to remember their personalities, their stories, their jokes, the laughter, and all those little things that made them who they were.

There are days when losing people we've grown to love makes this work really hard. Today is one of those days. But today also reminds me why we keep doing it.

Today I will go say my final goodbyes. We'll hurt and we will remember him and all the others we have lost. Before he moved to Tampa, he came to a workout and he looked around at everyone and just gave me the biggest smile and said something I will never forget: "Look what you have done. I knew you were the one, please don't stop. You are amazing."

I am not sure I completely understood at the moment how much those words would mean to me later. I do today and I won't stop.

On Monday, I will go back to the studio, turn the music on and someone will say something that will make us all laugh. Eventually a new person will walk through our doors who is scared, overwhelmed and wondering what life with Parkinson's is going to look like. We will welcome them in because that is what the people who came before helped us build.

Our Parkinson's community doesn't just show up. They leave things better and their footprints are still all over this place.

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