Self

My mother always wanted to travel, but she put it off until “someday.” “After the kids leave home,” she said. “After your dad retires. After we have more savings.”

Then she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease, and her health declined quickly. She never left Ohio again. She never saw the places she dreamt about. She never had the opportunity to do the things she said she would do.

That’s why my mother was my biggest inspiration for my trip around the world. Her disease taught me to go one step beyond the Nike motto: “Just do it — NOW.”

So even though it’s bittersweet, it’s somewhat fitting that my mom passed away during my global adventure. Her life inspired me to travel to far-flung places, learn about other cultures and seek out new experiences. But her death brought me back home again — and it taught me even more in the process.

10. As much as love brings people together, grief is even more universal. On Christmas, my father told me that my mother wasn’t doing well. So for a couple weeks, I wandered around Egypt in complete shock, talking about my mom to everybody who would listen. A Bedouin man, who barely understood my language, understood enough to comfort me. “She will be more comfortable soon,” he said, wrapping me in a warm hug. He had lost a mother too.

9. Friends are everywhere. When I needed people to nurture me, support me and love me, complete strangers stepped up to the plate. The day my mom died, an English woman gave me an hour-long foot massage, which seemed to rub a lot of the negative energy, sadness and frustration right out of me. An Egyptian man made me tea and let me babble until my throat was raw. A German girl offered her shoulder to cry on. I had more hugs than I could count. I suddenly had an international support system, and it reinforced my belief that we are all somehow connected.

8. We never realize how many people we touch until it’s too late. Before I left Egypt, someone asked, “Will there be many people at your mom’s funeral?” I shook my head no. “Unfortunately, she didn’t have many friends,” I said. It turns out that I was so wrong. I was surprised and overwhelmed by the number of people who showed up for the service, and I know my mom would have been truly touched. I wish she could have known how many people really loved and respected her.

7. Compassion matters. Every word, every e-mail message, every pot of soup, every card, every flower — it all meant so much to my family and me. I didn’t know how important it was to simply be around when someone loses a loved one.

6. Every moment is important. I set up a little tree branch at my mother’s funeral, then I encouraged guests to write their special memories on a card and hang it from the tree. Somebody wrote on one of the cards, “When I was a little boy coming to church, Heide watched out for me and helped me. I still go to church today because of her.” We often forget how a simple act of kindness can encourage, motivate and inspire others.

5. You are never prepared. My mother had Alzheimer’s for 10 years before she died. I knew it was coming. I thought I had grieved. I believed I had closure. But when the end finally arrived, it felt far too quick, and my heart filled with pain like I never knew before.

4. We all deserve to die with strength and dignity. Alzheimer’s creates a shell where there was once a person. Please help put a stop to this heinous disease (and other neurological disorders) by supporting the research efforts of the Alzheimer’s Association.

3. Food nutures us. I can’t say enough about the healing powers of food. As my family was in the throes of sorrow, we were so thankful to have friends who brought us lasagna, soup, salad, bread and just about anything else. Every bite was filled with love and comfort, and we were truly nourished by it.

2. Say what you feel. Do you love somebody? Do you appreciate what somebody does? Is there somebody who makes your life better? Tell them.

1. Do it now. Live the life you’ve always wanted. Travel. Dance. Laugh. Love. Do karate. Run a marathon. Have a baby. Skydive. Go back to school. Soar in a hot air balloon. Scuba dive. Take an extra bite of cake. Kiss someone. Chop off your hair. Buy an expensive bottle of champagne, just for the hell of it. Do it now, because “someday” is too late.