Wednesday, November 5, 2025 – Day 449

Wednesday, November 5, 2025

Good morning! 
And a big happy belated birthday to Jill! 🎉🥳🍾

Continuing with my reflections about my dad…

As Dad’s short-term memory faded, one of the first challenges that popped up was parking lots. We’ve all forgotten where we parked before, wandering up and down aisles pressing the panic button like we’re searching for buried treasure. Then one day up-north he had to call for help.

Like many seniors, giving up the car keys was not in his playbook. Driving equals independence — a lifetime of freedom wrapped up in one small piece of metal. So it became a quiet battle: keys tucked away, offers to drive him “just this once,” attempts to distract or redirect. He got mad.

Sometimes really mad. My brother Nick, who lived next door, often found himself on the front lines of Dad’s frustration. One day, determined to prove he could still drive, Dad tried to start his car with the John Deere tractor key. In his mind, quitting wasn’t an option — he wasn’t ready to give up that part of himself.

That scene plays out in so many families — well-meaning kids trying to protect a parent who isn’t quite ready to accept what life is taking away. I always assumed I’d put up the same fight someday. I’ve always loved driving. On road trips, I was the designated wheel-man — out the door at 3 or 4 a.m., cruising along happily… as long as we wrapped up before dusk. (Driving in the dark? No thank you.)

Then ALS entered the picture.

Even as walking became difficult, I kept driving. I thought I was doing just fine. Cindy, meanwhile, watched my right foot — supported by an orthotic because my ankle was weakening — and asked, gently but often, if I felt good about driving. To her credit, she never demanded. She nudged. She worried. She paid attention.

And one day, when she asked if I was okay to drive, I simply… headed to the passenger seat. No drama. No speech. No argument. Just a quiet understanding settling in between us. The next time we went somewhere, I wandered back to that same seat, and that was that. Driving didn’t end in one moment…it just faded away, like a sunset you don’t notice until you realize it’s dark.

The last time I drove was mid-August. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if I still could, but I also know better. That chapter closed gently and, surprisingly, without grief. What I thought would be a knock-down, drag-out moment in my life turned into… acceptance. And honestly, peace…especially for my passengers.

Now I ride shotgun with my own personal chauffeur…one who somehow always knows where I am and never loses the car in a parking lot. Pretty good deal if you ask me. 😉

Have a great Wednesday.
Love you guys! ❤️

Photos of Wyatt and Coco learning to drive.