When the Words Didn’t Come, the Truth Still Did

This chapter captures the quiet moment when everything almost becomes real—but no one says the truth out loud. It’s me and my mom in the car after yet another doctor’s appointment, both of us trying to be strong for each other, even as the fear starts to crack through the silence. We didn’t have a diagnosis yet, but we both knew something was shifting. This is the chapter where denial and love collide—and where the weight of the unknown starts to settle in

Chapter 3

RULE OUT THE WORST & HOPE FOR THE BEST

2025 Reflection:

I can still feel that moment in the car with my mom. The silence. The fear. The way her hands shook on the steering wheel while she tried to be strong for me. And me—sitting there, trying to be strong for her.

It’s wild how we both thought we had to protect each other from the truth, like honesty might break us. What I didn’t understand then is that we were already broken—and that’s okay. Because broken doesn’t mean ruined. It means real.

I look back now and realize that fear wasn’t weakness. It was love. It was grief. It was two people trying to hold on to what they knew… while the world shifted underneath them.

We didn’t have answers yet. But that moment—that bond between mother and son—was the first time I understood what fighting through this might actually look like. Not bravado. Not denial. Just showing up, even scared.

Letter #3:

 "The Silent Shift: When Everything Cracks But No One Speaks"

Dear Reader,

There are moments in life where everything shifts… but no one says it out loud.

Sitting in that car with my mom after the appointment, I didn’t cry. I didn’t collapse. I didn’t scream, “Why me?” But inside? Everything cracked. And I could see in her eyes that it cracked for her too.

We didn’t fall apart in front of each other.
We just… sat in the silence.
Trying to be brave.
For the other person.
For ourselves.

If you’ve ever had a moment like that—where you almost know what’s wrong, but the answers are still out of reach—let me tell you something I wish I had known back then:

You don’t have to pretend you’re okay just to keep the people you love from hurting.

You can be scared. You can be confused. You can feel everything at once—and still show up for yourself anyway.

That was the day I first heard the words Young Onset Parkinson’s Disease.

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t feel real.

But it was the beginning of something I never saw coming:
A long, hard fight…
A lot of dark chapters…
And eventually, a stronger version of myself I didn’t know existed.

So if you’re sitting in your own version of that car right now—if the diagnosis is coming but not quite here yet—I just want to say:

You’re not weak for being scared.
You’re not broken for needing time.
And you’re not alone.

I’ve been there. And I’m still here.

With you,
Richie