Finding Joy and Meaning in the Face of Terminal Illness

photo credit: Photo by Hans Moerman on Unsplash

We champion weightlifting not just for its physical benefits but for how it protects us from setbacks like falls. But what about the strength we can’t measure with reps or a barbell? The kind that requires us to show up for life in the face of unimaginable challenges?

True strength is revealed when we’re confronted with life-altering setbacks, like the diagnosis of a terminal, incurable disease. A diagnosis that leads to physical or mental decline. How do we move forward when the path ahead seems insurmountable?

While I admire and celebrate older adults who remain physically strong and active, my deepest inspiration comes from those who have a strength of spirit to find hope, joy, and meaning even in the face of a debilitating disease. These were individuals who, despite being robbed of their ability to participate in sports and activities they love, found ways to embrace life with joy, gratitude, and meaning.

Take Mo, a family friend who traveled the world, surfed and snowboarded into her 60's until she diagnosed with an incurable form of brain cancer and given a short time to live. The treatments and the disease left her unable to use the left side of her body, eventually confining her to a wheelchair. Mo would sit outside, smiling as she soaked up the warmth of the sun. My dad would carry her to the beach, where she would sit for hours mesmerized by waves breaking on the shore. She always expressed gratitude for the moments she was able to spend outside. Despite her diagnosis, Mo still found joy in life’s small pleasures.

Then there was Tom, a lifelong athlete and dear friend I've written about before, who was diagnosed with ALS. A lifelong athlete, Tom’s identity was rooted in physical activity. He and his wife enjoyed hiking, traveling, and biking—activities the disease eventually made impossible. Tom found joy in unexpected places. His wife would push him around the mall in his wheelchair and he would strike up conversations with strangers and befriended the staff at restaurants he frequented. He never lost his humor, warmth, or ability to connect. His infectious laugh and knack for storytelling brought light to those around him, even as his body declined.

While I hope to remain strong, active, and mobile in my later years, life is unpredictable. What happens if physical activity—a cornerstone of my identity and joy—is no longer possible? How will I show up and find meaning in life when faced with such profound loss?

For answers, I look to Mo and Tom. They remind me that even when our bodies falter, we can still live fully. Life’s beauty is not confined to physical capability but is found in our ability to adapt, connect, and love.