Alzheimer’s. Parkinson’s.

Two horrible, cruel, and relentless diseases that have claimed someone we love. I hope this doesn’t offend you, but I hate these diseases.

A few years ago, I wrote a blog about Alzheimer’s. I did so because my brother-in-law was diagnosed with this type of dementia. It was an early onset form of the disease, meaning that he was diagnosed at a younger-than-normal age. He lost his battle with the disease recently, and again, it was at a younger-than-normal age.

He was a husband, father, son, uncle, brother, cousin, and brother-in-law. He romanced my sister, raised strong, independent daughters, became a member of our clan, lived as an outdoors man, cooked like a chef, and worked diligently at his chosen profession.

He was a friend; he was family.

The disease first showed itself when he began to forget things. At one point, he lined up pictures on his dresser and every morning would go through the names of the ones in those pictures because he was determined to not forget the ones that he loved. He knew that something was wrong and as was his character, he set out to “fix” it. The diagnosis of Early Onset Alzheimer’s ended his career sooner than intended. Later, to add insult to injury, Parkinson’s was also diagnosed.

We have since learned that Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s are diseases that often occur simultaneously. To be honest, we’ve learned more about these two diseases than we ever wanted or cared to know — my sister and her girls especially.

This disease is a thief. To begin, it steals in small ways that are barely noticeable, it causes confusion, and frustration. For my brother-in-law, the consumate outsdoorsman, it stole his desire to fish, to hunt, and to hike. The memories that he had created and the opportunity to continue creating memories with his family while participating in these activities suddenly ended as well. As the disease continued to impact his mind, it stole his recent memory, familiar behaviors, loved personality traits, and his independence. In the later stages, it took other abilities, including the ability to speak and to be understood.

His disease ran its course quickly, too quickly.

Young couples dream of the day when they will get to enjoy freedom to travel or to stay home and engage in their hobbies. Alzheimer’s took away that dream in more ways than one. Dreams that seemed so simple, restful, and enjoyable were no longer feasible when the interest and ability to engage in them ceased. Then of course, the time to enjoy them was taken when we lost him. My heart hurts for my sister and my nieces. They have lost so much.

Goodbyes are hard. This is one we wouldn’t have chosen. Yet, we’ve been saying goodbye to so many little things each and every day for the last few years. That doesn’t make saying the final goodbye to him — or to anyone — any easier.

I’ve learned something through this process.

Pictures — memories — laughter — travel — hikes — sitting together and drinking coffee — hugs — “I love you’s” — say “YES” to all of them. Say “YES” often. Make opportunities for them and say “YES” every chance you get.

Just as when I lost my brother, I went looking for pictures of my brother-in-law in the numerous albums and boxes of pictures and I discovered that I had far too few.

Memories — I’ve got those. Numerous memories filled with laughter, rolled eyes, rivers, mountain trails, Cocker Spaniels, a Lab, cats, goats, dancing, delicious food, and good conversations.

Laughter? Yes, we shared a lot of it — probably not enough, but there was a bunch. Hugs and “I love you’s” were often present as well. Again, probably not enough, but we do have the memories of the ones we enjoyed.

Make memories — they are treasures that cannot be replaced.

One thing I greatly admired about my sister was the decision she made to create as many memories for her, her daughters, and her grandchildren as she possibly could that included their loved one. Those memories are jewels that they will treasure for the rest of their lives. The fact that he is gone cannot touch them. Those memories are truly a blessing and a gift.

We will all say our own goodbyes. Some may be protracted as this one was, but some may be quick and unexpected. We will feel prepared for some and others will take us off guard.

Live so that there will be no regrets.

Live at peace with one another. Make memories that will be treasures, not regrets. Spend time together. Say what needs to be said. Remember to be kind. Say “YES.”

Love each other — and be sure to tell them.