Introduction

I knew something was wrong when I saw that my mom was calling me.

It isn't that we don't talk. We do. But most of the time now, we go back and forth with texts.

But now she was calling and it was going to be devastating news. I thought I was going to puke.

Our worst fears were confirmed, she was diagnosed with ALS and my heart was broken.

The night my father died seven years ago, she held me while I sobbed and yelled at her not to leave me.

She told me that she wasn't going anywhere.

And now she's telling me that she has a year to live.

I couldn't hear her very well. We had a pretty poor connection (thanks AT&T!). The gut-wrenching moment was when she said "at least you get to say goodbye to me." I wanted the Earth to swallow me up right then and there.

The weeks since this has all gone down have been a blur. I'm hitting all of the stages of grief like a pinball hung up inside three bumpers. There has been one consistent thought though. I need to help her do whatever she wants to do before she is unable to do anything else.

Two weeks ago, I was at her place in Santee when she shared that my stepfather and her were going to go on a road trip around the country. She was going to say goodbye to family and friends and see the parts of America that she hasn't had a chance to see yet.

On my way home that night, I sent her a text offering to go with them on their trip so I could be there to help.

Intially, she turned down my offer. Their best times together have always been alone on vacation and they wanted to spend this time alone. I was totally okay with that. I would have been concerned that I was a third wheel anyways.

But then, the disease progressed a little faster than what we anticipated. She was losing more and more control of her body.

And they were going to need some help to make this trip happen.

So I asked for the next month off of work and now here we are - on the roadtrip of a lifetime, racing whatever internal clock this disease is operating on.

Each night, I'll let you know what happened the day before. I'm thrilled to be able to help my mom and stepfather go on this journey and I hope by documenting this trip, I will always have something to go back to so I can remember my mom long after she is gone.

Normally, I would fear the unknown. But I don't know where this trip is going to take us and I'll thrilled to find out what is in store over the next few weeks.

JVW