MITCH  STURGEON
Author and Blogger Living With MS

Excerpt #1

From Chapter 1 — A Conspiracy is Born

In the end, we succumb to death. Given all she had endured, however, my mother’s passing was more an achievement, a victory, a finish line crossed with arms raised high.

Three days after she died, I sat in the front row at Clay’s Funeral Home surrounded by my extended family, except my daughter, Amy. She stood tall and straight at the podium and read the eulogy I had written. My closing words were these:

I haven’t asked my father, but I wonder if once or twice these past few days he’s heard my wheelchair coming down the hallway at his house and confused it with the sound my mother’s chair made in that same hallway for the past forty years.

I’ll consider myself a success in life if, once or twice, anyone confuses anything I do for something my mother might have done. She set the standard for how to live with humility, grace, strength, and most of all, love.

After the ceremony, someone asked, “Mitch, you were so young. Can you remember your mother walking?”

“Yes,” I responded without much thought. Then I paused for a moment before continuing. “Well, sort of. I still have a few memories from those early years, but I don’t remember her walking any more than I remember her breathing. Her love and comfort come to mind, but nothing about her legs, one way or the other.”