This is my story. It's also the story of Sam and George and Luke and mum and every family that has dealt with the consequences of Motor Neurone Disease.
It was ten years last year since we lost dad to MND. His name was Mark and he was a giant of a man.
He was six-foot squared. Muscles on muscles. Superhuman strength.
He played in the front-row for Nottingham City, Rochdale Hornets, Dewsbury and Hunslet. I was too little to remember him as a player, but I've heard all the stories about what a tough old bugger he was.
MND is a terrible disease. It stops the brain from sending signals to the muscles. Over time, people with MND lose their speech and their movement, all while their brain remains completely sharp intellectually.
We have to find a cure. No one should have to live through MND. It robbed us of a father, mum of a husband and, now that my brothers are having children of their own, a grandfather. It's hard not to feel anger at what MND took from us. It changed us in ways we never imagined.
There are people who have devoted their whole lives to this cause. We try and do our bit, too.
