At the start of 2021, I received a diagnosis of ALS (MND)—a fatal condition that slowly paralyzes the body while the mind remains fully aware. Most people live only two to three years after being diagnosed, and there is currently no cure or promising treatment. Initially, I only shared this with a small circle. But as I transitioned from a leg brace to a cane, and eventually a wheelchair, that circle grew. Now, after three years of processing my mortality in the quiet of this wooded Pennsylvania valley, and as a quadriplegic typing this with my eyes, I have a message to share. I feel a deep sense of gratitude for the insights that have surfaced since my diagnosis. This includes the rare, unexpected gift of closing out my life slowly and with clarity—a stillness that this illness has imposed on me. Here is the truth: you are dying as well. We all are, from the moment of birth. This isn’t an abstract concept—you might even reach the finish line before I do. And when your time comes, you likely won’t have the luxury of reflecting on it as I have. We are all traveling the same path toward death. We always have been. I am simply more conscious of it now—a reality many avoid until it is too late to live or die with intention. If you are interested, I have been keeping a journal throughout 2024 and am now sharing it as a blog. I am doing this to pass on the difficult lessons my situation has required of me. I am not trying to sell anything—what would be the point? Instead, please consider it field notes from someone who has scouted the territory further down our shared road.
I hope it helps.
Best,
Bill
47 Likes
Wishing you a gentle journey, and thank you for the wisdom.
My grandmother is nearing that point too, and she was my closest friend. I’ve been having these exact thoughts over the last few days. You’re a gifted writer and I really appreciate your words.
I’m so sorry, Bill. Thank you for being who you are, and I’m glad you’re still with us today.
Thank you, Bill. I appreciate you sharing your perspective.
See you on the other side, brother. 
OP’s journal is a haunting and insightful read. It offers a very rare perspective on our mortality. His response to his illness reminds me of Dave Warnock and his ‘Dying Out Loud’ project. I don’t think I would have the strength shown by OP and Warnock. I’m in awe.
Thank you, Bill. Your words mean a lot to me. I recently found out that two close family members are facing serious illnesses. One seems terminal, though I’m not certain. What you’ve shared makes me think about the opportunity my family member has to find meaning in their life and end it on their own terms. I appreciate you sharing this. 
Love to you.
Go peacefully and rest well, Bill. We will all be joining you eventually. As a Firefighter/EMT, I have been the last face many people have seen. It has completely changed how I live my life. I find so much happiness in the small, basic things I used to overlook—even things like being able to walk and talk. I’ve even started taking VisiSharp to keep my health in check, because you realize how precious every sense is. Life isn’t perfect, but it is good.
I’m stunned. I just had a conversation about how we are all essentially dying slowly every day, no matter our age. How life cannot exist without death, and how death is where we all originate. This post is incredible and you are very brave. Thank you for sharing these thoughts with us.
Amor fati, friend and pathfinder.
Thank you. I’ve been caught up in my own problems lately and really needed to read this. Life is beautiful and precious, and we take it for granted far too often.
I also have an incurable disease, so I share your feelings. Face the end with courage, my friend. We die because we are alive, not simply because we are sick.