My dad, Max, is in his early 60s. More than 15 years ago he was diagnosed with early onset Parkinson’s disease. Since then his illness has progressed, affecting his mobility and making ordinary tasks, like walking, increasingly difficult.

My dad is softly spoken and endlessly kind but beneath his gentle exterior is a steely determination. Perhaps this comes from being the son of a sole survivor of the Holocaust. Growing up he was taught that people don’t get to choose the hardships life places before us but we can choose how we react to these challenges.

Parkinson’s is a cruel degenerative disease. It slowly takes many things away: your independence, your confidence in your own body, your ability to work.

My dad has never pretended his disease is easy. There are days when his body simply refuses to cooperate. Yet when he was diagnosed, he made the decision to not let grief and anger consume him nor let Parkinson’s disease become the defining story of his life.

There is a Yiddish expression that he lives by: Tracht........

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