When I have a bad day I try to change it to a good day by doing something that Parkinsons tells me I should not be able to do. That way I am, In a manner of speaking, showing it who is the boss.

What a beautiful reply. You gave me so much to think about. I just loved what you wrote. Thank you so much for sharing that with me. I am sending you love and friendship.

Thank you,
Kathy

Bob understands those difficult days,
when sunshine feels hidden behind a gray haze.
Some days may be bad, and some may be worse;
Parkinson’s brings troubles we cannot rehearse.

We are all at different stages, that much is true,
and no two people travel with quite the same view.
What feels like a hill may be someone else’s wall,
while another keeps moving but fears he may fall.

Bob once found happiness waiting nearby;
it arrived on its own like the sun in the sky.
But now he must search for each glimmer of light,
then gather those moments and hold them up tight.

Positiveness once came without any request;
now Bob must invite it and give it his best.
It has become something he needs every day—
a choice and a practice that helps light the way.

Feed what brings laughter, affection, and cheer;
starve the dark thoughts that keep whispering fear.
Give energy to kindness, to friendship, and love,
to music, a phone call, or blue skies above.

A good thing seems small when the bad things are loud,
like one tiny sunbeam escaping a cloud.
But give that beam room, let it brighten your view,
and sometimes one sunbeam becomes two.

Bob does not pretend that the pain is not there,
or cover his troubles with false happy air.
A bad day is real, and it sometimes feels long;
admitting that truth does not mean we are wrong.

Positiveness is not denying the fight;
it is searching the darkness for one bit of light.
It is saying, “This illness may trouble my way,
but I will not hand it the rest of my day.”

Perhaps it is coffee, a joke, or a song,
or somebody calling who helps you feel strong.
Perhaps it is sunshine warming your chair,
or simply discovering someone still cares.

And Bob says:

When bad days outnumber the good ones we see,
Bob looks for one moment where joy can still be.
He waters the laughter and feeds every smile,
while leaving negativity hungry awhile.

If happiness hides, Bob begins looking around—
behind every corner, beneath every sound.
He may move rather slowly and search half the day,
but when Bob finds a smile, he will not throw it away!

So feed the positiveness, give happiness room;
let love be the sunlight that reaches the gloom.
The bad days may visit—we cannot forbid—
but they do not erase every good thing we did.

And if today offers one reason to grin,
Bob gathers it up and invites the light in.
For even when Parkinson’s darkens the view,
hope can still whisper, “Tomorrow needs you.”

So, remember what Bob, in his own way, has said:
keep feeding the good times; put bad times to bed.
We will not all manage exactly the same,
and struggling some days is no reason for shame.

Just give it your best, with the strength you can find;
every small step toward joy leaves some darkness behind.

Bob

love it.