On Sunday May 31st, 2026, “Copper’s Crew” gathered once again for the MS Walk in Port Hope, Ontario.

Like many of the people there, I was walking for someone I love.❤️

My brother was diagnosed with Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis (PPMS) in 2018. Since then, our family has learned that life with a progressive disease is rarely measured in milestones. More often, it’s measured in moments.

Sunday was full of those moments.❤️

Our team of 18 raised $1,985, and I am deeply grateful to every person who donated, walked, volunteered, or supported us along the way. Fundraising is an important part of the MS Walk. Research, programs, and support services depend on it.

But what stays with me most isn’t a fundraising number.

It’s people.

It’s the friends who have known my brother for decades and continue to show up without hesitation. It’s the family members who rearrange schedules to be there. It’s the newer friends who said “Hey, I’m in!” and showed up to walk. It’s the conversations, hugs, laughter, and quiet understanding that exist between people who genuinely care about one another.

When you’re supporting someone living with a chronic illness, there can be moments that feel incredibly isolating. The appointments, the uncertainty, the adjustments, the worry. Sometimes it can feel as though your world has become smaller.

Then a day like Sunday arrives. Suddenly you’re surrounded by people who remind you that you’re not carrying it alone.

One of the most powerful moments came near the finish line.❤️

My little brother spent the day using his scooter, but for the final 100 feet, he got up and walked with assistance. As he made his way toward the finish, the crowd began to cheer. Organizers applauded. Friends encouraged him forward.

For our team, it was an emotional moment. Not because of the distance. Because of what it represented. Determination. Courage. Community. Hope. I don’t think there was a dry eye among us.

I also had a meaningful moment with my niece that day. The details will remain private, but what stayed with me was a deep sense of pride. She is a strong, thoughtful, caring woman, and I couldn’t help but see so many of the qualities her father helped instill in her. Some gifts don’t come wrapped. They show up in character, kindness, and how we treat others.

As I reflected on the day afterward, one thought kept returning to me.

We cannot hide behind a diagnosis.

A diagnosis may change the path, but it doesn’t change the value of a life. It doesn’t erase relationships. It doesn’t eliminate purpose. It doesn’t stop us from loving, laughing, supporting one another, or creating meaningful memories.

What we do for those we love matters. What we do for people we’ve never met matters too. Every donation sends a message of hope. Every volunteer gives their time so someone else feels supported. Every participant helps remind families like ours that they are part of something larger than themselves. The MS Walk gives us an opportunity to step away from the distractions of daily life and focus on what is directly in front of us: people.

For a few hours, the focus isn’t on what has been lost. It’s on what remains. Connection. Friendship. Strength. Love. And hope.

Those things were everywhere on Sunday.

For that, I am incredibly thankful.

❤️ xo, Marcia