There are some battles in life that you can fight, and there are others that leave you feeling completely powerless.
Right now, I’m in the middle of one of the hardest battles of my life — not my own fight, but my mother’s.
A Woman I’ve Always Looked Up To
My mother has always been my rock, even when I was at my lowest.
When I was serving 28 years, 4 months, and 21 days, she never gave up on me.
Through prison walls, through silence and distance, her love was constant — even when I didn’t deserve it.
Now, as I’ve been free for almost seven years, building my life back brick by brick, I’m watching the strongest woman I know fade away right in front of me.
The Cruelty of Dementia
My mother has dementia, and it’s taken so much from her — piece by piece, memory by memory.
Some days, she knows who I am.
She’ll smile and say my name, and for a brief moment, it feels like I have my mother back.
Other days, she stares right through me like I’m a stranger.
Those days hurt more than anything I’ve ever faced, even prison.
She’s lost so much weight, her body is frail, and there are times when she’s nearly comatose.
The truth is, my siblings and I know what’s coming.
We’re not just caring for her anymore — we’re waiting for the call that will change everything forever.
And that’s a pain I can’t put into words.
Why This Matters to The Climb
The Climb isn’t just about me finding success or rebuilding my career.
It’s about fighting for mental strength when life tries to break you.
It’s about holding on when everything feels like it’s falling apart.
My mother’s decline reminds me every day that time is precious, and that family is at the heart of this journey.
Every post I write, every video I share, every step I take — it’s for her, for my wife, for my kids, and for the people who need to see that no matter how heavy the burden, you can keep climbing.
My Promise
I don’t know how many days my mother has left.
But I do know this — I will keep showing up for her, just like she showed up for me during those decades when I was locked away.
This blog, this climb, is for her.
It’s proof that even when you’re watching someone you love slip away, you can hold on to faith, to love, and to purpose.
Final Words
If you’re reading this and going through something similar, please know you’re not alone.
The pain of watching a loved one fade is like no other.
But together, we can share our stories, lift each other up, and keep climbing — one step at a time.
The Climb 
Leave a comment