I will share the joys, pains,
and dirty little secrets of my life with multiple sclerosis. My goal is to find
a reason to convince you to support/share my fight against MS. Please donate
today: http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/eleanor.
I require more than 30
Efforts, less would create an unsubstantial portrait of the man who needs your
support. 30 days is an unrealistic timeline — once discovered, neither accurate
words nor the courage to write them, develop so quickly. How many efforts will this take, and how much
time will require to share them? I don’t know the answer, so I will just
continue writing.
This is a revisit to Effort
Number 25…
Doubt surrounds my decision to
post this story. What remains unclear is my answer to the question, “Is this
the appropriate setting to talk about my connection to that one word?” Maybe if
my story contains ample beauty there will no longer be a need to long for it again.
I was headed into the gym this
morning when a flood of memories overtook my thoughts. They were of every
instance I have ever used that four-letter word – a word so compelling that it
alone has sufficient power to subdue the constant noises I’ve tried to
describe.
Not until I sat down to share
my thoughts did the realization strike as to why I was thinking about the word
at all…
It would be a laughable
understatement to call myself naïve the first time I used that word. I was
young and swept away with romantic images of instant remedies for the mind,
heart, and body – truly the core of where my soul was supposed to exist. When
the word failed to blossom, we parted ways and I never gave it another thought.
I have used that word so many
times in my life, it is impossible to count individual instances. The context
of each utterance, however, to whom and why I chose to use the word again, is
clear. Ten unique times in my life has the situation called for cure; five times the word
proved insufferable; there are four instances where the claim still reigns viable;
for the final – I just don’t know. It’s doubtful I will ever find the truth.
I’m not afraid of the word cure. I love to use it
freely in everyday conversation, as a joke with my friends or to lend help to a
special cause. Only in the framework of those four, possibly five situations
will I pause and think. I finally made my way over to my desk, the site where I
reside in quiet solitude, trying to give voice to my thoughts. 219 other words
into a story intended to describe my passions towards the term cure, I realized why it
was on my mind. I wanted to use the word again but worried if my cries have
been exhausted.
If cure becomes my wolf, I may never realize
if it ever truly existed at all. What becomes of me if – through my own trials,
abuses, and shortcomings – I realize the word exists but will never feel the
embrace of her passionate grip for myself? What if cure never existed at all?
Only when I look into my
daughter’s eyes do I realize it does not matter if the word cure contains substance in
that fifth form. Nor does it matter if there will be more to follow. If my
efforts fail to satisfy, I will still be in complete fulfillment of the man I
hoped to be before I knew any significance to the word cure.
I hope the stories will
inspire your donation to my fight.
Because it is a fight.
The fight is not over and it won’t be over until a cure is found.
It will never stop…nor will we
It will never quit…nor will we
This is why we ride!
Please
donate today: http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/eleanor
100%
of the royalties earned from my books go to the National MS Society, to support
our fight: http://neverstopneverquit.com/books
Never Stop… Never Quit…®
Kevin
Byrne
Portland,
OR
Never Stop…
Never Quit…
Reg. U.S. Pat. & Tm. Off.
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