Our father, Adishwar, whom many lovingly refer to as ‘Ronnie’, was diagnosed with ALS in January 2024. But the earliest signs of the disease made their first appearance in the spring of 2022, during a time when pandemic-related delays and restrictions made it all too easy to defer
medical attention amid an overburdened healthcare system.
ALS has felt like a rude awakening not only for our Dad, but for our entire family. In many ways, ALS has stripped him of all the things he loved most.
The first symptoms showed up on his daily 7KM walks. Staying active was staying sane for Ronnie. He walked daily, took pride in his health and body, nourished himself in all the right ways, and grimaced at the offer of any happy hour beverage. He was incredibly disciplined, so it was easy to pass off the first limb-onset symptoms as nothing more than a “bad knee”.
Today, Dad is surrounded by the love of his devoted and loving wife, his anchor and greatest source of strength and support, along with his three daughters, sons-in-law, and six grandchildren. Beyond his immediate family, he is deeply cherished by many whose lives have been touched by his generosity, compassion, and unwavering presence as a pillar of strength during their most trying times.
Immigrating from Punjab, leaving behind his roots in 1980 to settle in Canada, Dad overcame countless challenges. Still, he would give the shirt off his back to help someone else, even if it meant hardship for himself. His warmth and sociability were just as defining. He continued making special trips to the bank just to connect and chat with tellers, long after most people had moved their lives online.
As his daughters, some of our most cherished memories are those spent in our Kitimat living room. No TV. No phones. Just us laughing, sharing stories, soaking up the invaluable wisdom Dad so effortlessly imparted. With ALS, witnessing the gradual silencing of his voice has been heartbreaking, yet Dad continues to bring us all together. He unites us and ensures we still share our triumphs and struggles with him each week, despite his communication barriers.
Dad’s spiritual faith has always been central. He carries Waheguru in his heart and lives by Chardi Kala, a state of unwavering optimism that defines his Sikh journey and continues to guide him through even the most difficult days. His devotion hasn’t wavered, and in turn, it inspires us to carry hope and hold faith in our own hearts, too.
What we’ve come to understand is that while this ALS journey belongs to Dad, we, as a family, walk it with him. It is both an honour and a heartbreak. It is a reality that has transformed us in ways we never imagined. ALS reminds us that being human means holding grief and gratitude, sorrow and joy, anger, disappointment, and empathy - all at once.
Dad often says that ALS has taken the things he loved most: his ability to stay active, walk, write, sing, and speak. Each loss brings its own grief. But there is one thing ALS cannot touch, and that is the unconditional and immeasurable love we hold for him.
That love is a reflection of what he’s given to us, over a lifetime. The compassion we show him today is the same care he’s extended to everyone around him so freely. The resilience we carry in his name mirrors the strength, courage, determination and dignity he’s embodied for as long as we’ve known him.
ALS may have changed the way we move through the world, but it will never change the way we stand by his side with compassion and steadfast support. Just as Dad has carried us through every hardship, we will continue to carry and show up for him, every day, in every way.