Thunder Road — Juliet Taylor

I was enchanted on the first date with my late husband, Jeff, when our conversation turned to work. It’s an odd thing to say, because we can be conditioned to believe that work should be a less important aspect of our lives. But what I noticed in Jeff was a…

The summer and autumn of 2018 brought uncertain and scary moments for my late husband, Jeff, and me as he battled progressing symptoms of what would later be diagnosed as ALS. His symptoms had begun with the seemingly benign experience of foot drop, which was frustrating but not painful.

One of the things I cherished most about my late husband, Jeff, was his love of the holidays. From the year we began dating until our last Christmas, before he died from ALS in 2020, Jeff made the holidays special. During this season, he exuded a childlike glee that…

I remember the first time my late husband, Jeff, fell as a result of ALS. Falls can be common with the disease, but I was still shocked each time one happened. When Jeff fell, it laid bare how ill qualified I felt to care for him, even while taking…

A few weeks after my late husband, Jeff, was diagnosed with ALS in 2018, we were sitting in our primary care doctor’s office to talk. We’d just received a second opinion confirming the diagnosis, and we were reeling. I remember how brutal the appointment felt for all three of us.

It was six years ago last week that my late husband, Jeff, and I sat in a neurologist’s office in Maryland as the doctor said, “I believe that this is ALS.” Moments before, I’d been watching the doctor administer a second electromyography (EMG) on Jeff, who found the procedure…

When I reflect on my time as a caregiver to my late husband, Jeff, while we lived with his ALS, I remember how afraid I often felt. I was fearful of injuring him during a transfer. I dreaded making a mistake with his feeding tube. I worried about his…

I remember borrowing a coffee tumbler emblazoned with a Royal Caribbean cruise ship logo from my late husband, Jeff, while we were dating. I wanted to take my coffee home from a visit to his house, and he reluctantly handed it over, explaining that he and his brother Steve had…

When I met my late husband, Jeff, we lived exactly 7 miles apart by car, our respective homes separated by the Potomac River just south of Washington, D.C. The bridge that crossed it nearest to our places featured a wide and safe bike lane that separated cyclists and pedestrians from…

I’m writing this column while gazing out over a foggy Pacific Ocean, aboard a ship that’s taking a group of us from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, to the icy waters of Glacier Bay, Alaska, and back. Intermittently on this voyage, pods of porpoises come racing close by the ship, and…

When my late husband, Jeff, was diagnosed with ALS in 2018, I remember reading that it could be an isolating disease. I didn’t understand that at the time; our days were filled with testing appointments as we went from electromyography to blood work, swallow study to spinal tap. Our…

A few weeks ago, I was driving out of my neighborhood when I noticed a sheriff’s car passing me slowly, headed in the direction I’d come from. Reflexively, I made a U-turn and began following the officer, dreading the bad news that I was sure he was headed to my…