Message from the Munros at the Bottom. Sorry, I am not to savvy with GFM. -MHP

If you work at SFA, went to SFA, walked the halls of Human Services years ago, or now the ECRC, know the Munros, or know me, I am asking you to take a moment and read this.

Many of you know Michael and Heather Munro. They have both served at SFA for over 20 years in the Visual Impairment / Orientation and Mobility program, and each has served a season as director of the program. If you’ve ever spent time on campus or even around town, you’ve seen their students, blindfolded, using a cane, walking all over campus and downtown Nacogdoches, learning how to navigate independently and confidently so they can teach people with visual impairments how to navigate life independently. That is the work they have dedicated their lives to, even before coming to SFA.

They are both East Texans. This community is home. Their children grew up in NISD (two still in school).

With their permission, I am sharing this: Michael was diagnosed with ALS less than six months ago and it has progressed rapidly. THIS IS A TERMINAL ILLNESS. Many of you may be familiar with hearing about it because of the famous actor Eric Dane.

Michael and I were not close friends, but we have been co-workers for over 20 years. We’ve been through multiple departmental changes, college shifts, program restructures and somehow we’ve always found our way back into the same orbit. I guess Deaf and Visual Impairment just go together… kind of like when a Deaf person goes to a restaurant and they’re handed a braille menu (or a blind person is asked if they know sign language).

We were hallway regulars. Early mornings in I would drop my things in my office, head to the kitchen, and call out, “Good morning, Michael!” He would already be at his desk, laptop open, grading, leaving comments for students. Sometimes he would chuckle because he didn’t know who had called out and then I’d hear, “Good morning!” or “Have a good day!” as I walked back down the hall.

Heather, I would often pass in the evenings. I was heading home from teaching my night classes; she was heading in to teach even later ones. Quiet strength. Always a kind smile. Always a “Good evening.”

They have poured decades into students. Into this university. Into East Texas. It’s our turn to give back.

As with so many diseases, ALS changes everything.

I will not even begin to pretend to know what Michael is feeling. But I do know what it means to love someone while watching them slip away in front of your eyes, both of you aware of what is happening and unable to do anything other than be there to help care and do what they no longer can. It alters you permanently. It reshapes what matters. The small things no longer matter. Comfort, care, and dignity become everything.

The financial cost of this disease is overwhelming. The emotional cost is heavier.

If you know Michael at all, you know what he worries about most — Heather and the kids. Making sure she and their family are taken care of now and for the rest of her life.

So I am asking, if you were their student, their colleague, you went to SFA, walked those halls then or now, know me or even you are reading this because you once knew my dad and are now connected to me through him and you are feeling called to do something kind, to pay it forward, please help.

Donate if you're able.

Share this.

Offer your time to them.

Provide a service.

Help them make a special memory.

Pray!

And if you know the Munros, leave a comment and share how YOU know them. Let’s remind them how many lives they’ve touched.

This is how we show up for the people who have shown up for so many others.

This is how we take care of our own.

This is how we build a community.

UPDATE FROM HEATHER AND MICHAEL:

Thank you so much for this! We are so very grateful for your initiative — and to all the people who have so generously donated, shared the link, and written such heartfelt sentiments about knowing Michael (whether here, in comments on his recent post, or comments on your own pages)… The outpouring of love in the face of this awful diagnosis is just overwhelming.

We want you to know how much this endeavor is helping as we struggle to meet the realities of out-of-pocket costs. To anyone considering a contribution, please be assured that all donations will be used to purchase required medical equipment, travel to (and pay for) various specialists and clinics, make modifications for accessibility in/around the home to maximize his safety, and to obtain professional caregiving as needed.

Again we thank you ALL for the love and the prayers. We are blessed to have such a supportive community of friends, family, and colleagues. We are forever grateful for the kindness we’ve been shown.