“Send card to Kyle” has been on my perpetual weekly to do list since September when he Tweeted this photo:
I was beyond touched. A tattoo matching mine, 7 swallows for 7 years with ALS, with his own twist honoring his brother’s wedding to a man.
I update my to do list every week, save over the last one with a new date. Anything that didn’t get done last week stays on the list, pushed down the page by new, more pressing items along with the meetings and workouts for the week.
Just so we’re clear: “Send card to Kyle” has been on my to do list for FIVE MONTHS.
He died today.
DO NOT put “sorry for your loss” condolences on my wall. I failed him, and I’m fucking furious with myself.
I didn’t know him well, but I knew he was struggling with depression awhile back. And who wouldn’t, relying on his eyes to communicate to the world, isolated during covid, still dealing with divorce, and watching his beautiful daughters grow without being able to parent or interact with them the way he would want to?
Kyle was prolific (and hilarious) on Twitter but because that’s not my go-to social media platform, I never saw that he responded to my comment on his photo until today:
WE WERE DIAGNOSED THE SAME WEEK. (Well the confirmation of my dx).
I make it a rule never to ask “why me?” That’s a rabbit hole that will never lead to an answer. Instead, I pride myself on my mission to fight for people with ALS like Kyle, the people that haven’t gotten the same chance to live freely and pursue their passions post-diagnosis, the way I have.
But I think it would have meant a hell of a lot more to him if I’d sent a card.
We all have friends in our lives who we know are struggling, who are lonely, who need us to show up for them. Please do it before it is too late (and you’ll never know when it’ll be too late).
I know I’ll be writing a few cards tonight.
PS: If you’re the praying type, please say a few for these precious girls and their dad.
