I don’t know where to begin. I mean that with regards to this post and life in general. I lost Rosann, my loving wife of 30 years this past January. She was 61 and had ALS. She started developing odd symptoms early in 2016 that were not thought to be connected to ALS but looking back probably were. In late 2016 she started to slur her speech and have difficulty swallowing. It wasn’t until she started having trouble walking that the final diagnosis, we all dreaded, came. I could go on for pages about how cruel this condition is, how difficult it was to cope with all the challenges, physical, emotional, small and big. Trying to figure out how to make her as comfortable as possible each day but let me just say it was all consuming and totally devastating. In the end all she could manage was to move her eyes. Thanks to the ALS Association clinic they arranged for an eye gaze device that monitored her eye movement and spelled words as she looked at letters on a computer screen. It would then speak the words for her. I’m very grateful for their help. This device was her absolute lifeline, the only bit of independence and connection to her old world. There were so many challenges but one of the hardest for me was to lose the ability to have a meaningful conversation with my wife. The eye gaze device was a blessing but it only allowed for basic communication and daily essentials. A few years before Rosann got sick we found and purchased our dream home. We fully expected to live out a long retirement together. As her illness progressed I had to move her out of that home to get her better care. It broke my heart knowing she would never see that house again. Since Rosann has passed I feel lost and drifting about, having difficulty doing everyday things. We never had children and my family is mostly gone so I’m having to adjust to a completely new existence. I have to find a new focus after spending years totally consumed managing her care and losing my partner in life. It’s an abrupt shift to make and I’m not doing a good job at it. I hope it gets easier, I miss her every day. I don’t know exactly why I’m writing this. I thought perhaps it might be therapeutic to write a little bit of Rosanns and my story. But more importantly I hope that someone who may have experienced a similar situation will read this and realize they are not alone, even if it feels that way.