Journalism 1 student Lilli Sams (left) sits on the lap of her grandfather, Albert Sams Jr., with her sister Ella Sams (right) in High Hampton, North Carolina in 2005. Sams’ grandfather taught her to maintain resilience and positivity during hard times. Photo by Eleanor Sams
Journalism 1 student Lilli Sams reflects on how her grandfather’s battle with Multiple Sclerosis (MS) inspires her in sports and in her everyday life.
I had the privilege of being close to my grandfather, Papa, for 15 years. He was a truly outstanding character. He served in the Air Force for much of his young adult life, and was one of the most humble, God-loving and genuine people I’ve ever known.
I took him for granted while I was growing up. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized how much of a role he really played in my life. He was practically the definition of strength, but to me, his strength didn’t come from his role in the military.
Instead, it came from a much longer battle.
Papa led a full and very active life. But, when he was 50, he was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS). This disease caused his immune system to attack his own nerves, ultimately leaving him paralyzed from the waist down.
He was chained to a chair. Even though he was robbed of his legs, and with that his freedom, he kept a positive disposition.
Journalism 1 student Lilli Sams (left) sits with her grandfather, Albert Sams, Jr. (middle) and sister, Ella Sams (right) in Athens, Ga in 2006. Albert enjoyed helping his grandchildren understand the importance of family and finding a love for life. Photo by Eleanor Sams
I’m sure he had his bad days, but from my memory, I can’t recall a time when he complained about his condition, despite him having every right to. He was just grateful to have oxygen in his lungs and blood pumping through his veins.
Papa passed away on June 1, 2018.
Sometimes negativity starts to build up when I’m running laps for soccer.
I think to myself, “I don’t want to run anymore. I can’t.”
Then I remember what my grandfather endured.
I think to myself what my grandfather would give to be in my shoes, running laps right now, if he were still alive. When I remember this, my pain suddenly becomes insignificant.
I think about how he never complained about his condition, and if he didn’t complain about losing control of his legs, then I shouldn’t complain about having to run.
My grandfather’s strength keeps me running when I don’t want to anymore. He reminds me of how fortunate I am to be standing on my own two legs.
He reminds me that bad things will happen, but they shouldn’t have control over my attitude.
