My mom, Teresa Bosch-Wilson, has always been the strongest woman I know. She’s the kind of person who meets life with humor first and tears later. She spent more than 30 years as a teacher helping kids believe in themselves, which speaks to big heart. She could make a whole room laugh, but she was also the first one to show up when someone needed her.

That’s why the first time I saw her struggle to climb the steps into my house, it broke me. She used to come rolling into my house with a smartass remark. Now, I had to help her steady herself, and she looked at me with the same determined eyes I’ve seen a thousand times in her classroom photos; trying not to show how hard it had become.

Mom has lived in the Treasure Valley area of Idaho since 1985. She’s taught in the Melba and Middleton school districts and before that a number of years in her hometown Tillamook, OR, guiding and supporting thousands of students over three decades. To this day, former students still send her messages thanking her for believing in them.

She’s a “smart ass who genuinely cares about people,” as I like to say. The kind of teacher who never clocked out mentally, always thinking about how to help a struggling kid. She’s also a fiercely loyal friend, a devoted grandmother, and the spiritual heart of our family. She’s the kind of person who fights for others, even when it costs her time or sleep or peace of mind. And now, for the first time, she’s the one who needs people to fight for her.

In August of 2024, Mom was diagnosed with ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease. It’s the diagnosis you hope you’ll never hear. At first, the changes were small. She had trouble gripping things, getting up from the couch, or holding her sewing needle. But slowly, those small frustrations turned into real limitations. She can no longer garden, cross-stitch, or cook the way she used to. Even getting dressed or moving from one room to another has become a challenge.

A few weeks ago, she told me something that stopped me cold. She said, “I don’t want to die an ALS death.” There’s just no handbook for how to respond when your parent says that. All you can do is listen, hold their hand, and promise to make every single day count.

Still, she doesn’t give up. Every day, she gives herself a step goal. And you better believe she meets it. She pushes to stay strong and to keep her independence as long as she can. That grit is who she is.

This all presents a challenge that our family is struggling with. I’m trying to balance full-time work, raising my own young kids, and being there for Mom. My brother and I, along with our extended family, do everything we can to help. But Mom is fiercely independent and doesn’t like asking for help.

She loves being with her grandchildren. The youngest are just three, the oldest are in their teens, and seeing them all brings her so much happiness. We’re trying to make sure she can keep visiting and being part of their lives for as long as possible. But even the practical side of that has become harder. We need to install a ramp at our home, make small modifications so she can move safely, and invest in adaptive tools for everyday tasks that most of us take for granted—like shoes she can put on herself or utensils she can hold comfortably.

ALS care is expensive, even with insurance and retirement savings. Her current rent is about $1,100 a month, but moving into an independent or assisted living situation will likely triple that cost to around $3,100–$3,500 per month before additional costs of supports. On top of that, we’re covering out-of-pocket costs for adaptive clothing, medications with high co-pays, travel to medical appointments (including Cedars-Sinai), and technology like Alexa Dots or fall-detection devices that can help keep her safe when she’s alone.

Every gift, big or small, helps with something tangible like a ramp so she can visit family, special clothing that makes her life easier, or in-home care that keeps her comfortable and safe. These are the things that will allow her to keep her independence and dignity.

If you ask anyone who knows my mom what makes her special, they’ll tell you it’s her heart. One of her former students, who later became like an adopted daughter to our family, once said, “When I came to her at 18 and told her I was pregnant, she didn’t judge me. She loved me through it. No matter what I did, she never turned her back on me.”

That’s who my mom is. She spent her life giving others grace. Now it’s our turn to give that back to her. Our goal is simple: to give Mom as much comfort, connection, and peace as we can, one day at a time.

If you can help, through a donation or by sharing her story, we would be deeply grateful. Every act of kindness, every share on social media, every dollar, helps her live with dignity, surrounded by family and love.

Thank you for reading, for caring, and for helping us make each day count.

“One day at a time.” That’s how Mom faces this. And that’s how we’ll keep going too.