peripatetic ovenbird We gathered to walk. And no one acknowledged the futility of the gesture. He who writes the_book_of_loss will not be saved by our slow meandering. The disease is eating his brain and it isn’t going to stop. We could walk the length of the earth and change nothing. These sorts of events are couched in the language of hope, but it rings hollow to me. So and so will match donations dollar for dollar! Congratulations to the such and such team who raised the most money! Everyone check your raffle tickets! Let’s get out there and walk for a cure! I Google “has any disease associated with a walk for a cure actually been cured?” The answers are vague but I can’t find any confirmation of such a thing. Research has advanced in some fields. There are more treatments. Some people survive longer. But I feel like there’s a lie embedded in the balloons and snacks and blue flower pins and matching t-shirts. No one admits that we might never find a cure. No one says that suffering is an inevitable part of life. No one says that the most important thing is community and quality of life and making room for the worst, most horrible things. It’s all, let’s beat this! Instead of, let’s meet this with our hearts wide open. Some donors give speeches. Some politicians give speeches. No one with Alzheimer’s disease is asked to give a speech and this strikes me as an egregious oversight. Aren’t those the voices that matter most, seeing as those are the people we’re walking to save? There’s always something performative about these events, something that tastes as bland as the packaged snacks provided. I didn’t come to change the world. I came to stand next to the friend whose life is impacted by this disease every day. I came to tell him that I see him and won’t run from the horror of it all. Our group walked a two kilometer circle around the park. Volunteers stood at each bend and cheered and blew bubbles as if we were pushing ourselves to the max running a marathon rather than ambling lazily on a flat, paved path. The vibe was “elementary school play day.” Everyone wins! Here, have a ribbon! And a popsicle! But there’s no winning. Not really. There is only witnessing and finding meaning in the most punishing dark. Someone took a picture of our crew. A. wasn’t looking at the camera because that isn’t a thing he can do anymore. The rest of us were smiling, pressed close together, holding tight to each other. This is all that matters. A. was not alone today. He was carried by the current of compassion. And though he walked slowly, he was never left behind. 260531 what's it to you? who go blather from