What Happens Next…

The past three months have been a journey fresh for me, penultimate for Mom.

In early January, I got shortlisted for a position and started trying really hard to get a job I would have been great at—had I gotten it.

Ability360 is the big dog in town when it comes to disability advocacy and adaptive sports programming. They were looking for a social media manager and primary storyteller for the organization.

In the end, I didn’t get the job—but I did get a new portfolio page on my website: ryanpauljohnson.com/portfolio. Hiring?

I’ve never had a corporate job. I’ve always worked on my own projects. 

Over the years, showing houses, I’d see a guy on a tractor mowing a greenbelt and be jealous. At the end of the day, that guy gets to go home with a sense of accomplishment and 16 hours for guilt free mischief making.

If I weren’t disabled, I would have been a blue-collar hero, because that’s how I was raised. Dad mowed lawns, so I mowed lawns. 

He taught me how to pay the bills and beat the heat of an AZ summer. You get up too early. Go work fast and efficiently until the job is done. Spend your afternoons in the pool with a ice cold Mountain Dew. 

I still ended up in a nearly blue-collar career.

Showing seven condos on the same summer Sunday afternoon in the Valley of the Sun could be the premise for one of those endurance races CrossFitters sign up to do for fun on Fourth of July weekend.

Over the years, as my mobility has diminished, the physical demand of the job started to stack up.

When my real estate partner, with the best of intensions and a stab at humor, advised me to always stay on the first floor because, “No one wants to watch you climbing stairs.” It broke my heart.

It made me really aware of just how off-putting my disability could be to people who don’t know me. Over the years, I’m sure I lost a lot of clients because of my disability. I understand how insecurity—at having to watch me walk—could make someone too uncomfortable to work with me.

That’s one of the worst parts about being a real estate agent: you are never really off. If you’re at a party and get a little silly, there’s a good chance you missed out on capturing a solid lead.

A couple weeks ago, I was at a house party of friends I’d helped buy and sell multiple houses over the years. While I was sitting there, my pal told his pal all about how they acquired this pristine slice of Old Town Scottsdale—without mentioning me at all.

In that moment, I was so overcome with joy that I was no longer an agent, because had I been, my feelings would have been crushed. That was always my primary problem with real estate. It’s an emotional job and I’m not wired right to deal with the constant sense of rejection.

A few times a year, I’d get effed out on real estate and start looking at jobs. This would always snap me back to real estate reality: either trade all my time to make half the amount I was used to making—or suck it up and sell some homes.

Last year, when it happened, the bad business arrangement I’d concocted to get rich was enough to make me actually quit quite. 

I told myself that I’d still sell some on the side as I started my motivational speaking career. Instead when the RE phone rings I just send them to someone I’d hire. 

I understand the work involved and necessary to launch a speaking business. But after a solid year of not doing that work, I’ve started to think… maybe I don't want to be a motivational speaker.

My Auntie Jen is in town to be with Mom. At some point—maybe 25 years ago—my Auntie Jen and Uncle Ed started working on their second careers. Ed as a history professor and Jenny as an artist. It’s been super inspirational to watch them start over in new roles that bring them so much joy. Jenny says, “Second careers are all about fun.”

I’m not sure how much fun I would have had working for Ability360. In retrospect, I might have dodged a bullet on that one.

The second week of March, Mom finally had the PET scan to see if the next new chemo was working.

Sadly, the scan showed what we’d suspected but were afraid to find out: the cancer had grown over the past four months. 

I was on my way to visit her at Mayo on the afternoon of Monday, March 10th, when I was rear-ended. Instead of visiting Mom in the hospital, I ended up in the ER for five hours. 

I spent the next week in bed while my body recovered from the impact.

Thankfully, I was mobile enough to crash Grandma Mary’s 94th birthday at Mom’s. The four of us shared dinner for three, we laughed a lot and watched The Princess Bride (Mom’s idea).

While Dad was taking Gram home, Mom took the opportunity to break the news to me. She said she was exhausted from her four-year fight and really ready to stop with all the poisoning.

I know she was trying to convince me that she’d fought for life with everything she had, but I didn’t need convincing. I knew. 

I told her I was so proud of her. I thanked her for fighting so hard and giving us the gift of all this extra time with her.

She has been to the max on several types of powerful chemotherapy and endured countless rounds of radiation—all of which worked to shrink the cancer and prolong her life.

God has been gracious by giving the world four years of extra time with Mom on the rock.

Later that night, they checked back into the Mayo Clinic ER because the pain was too much for them to handle. They were able to transition her to hospice care that evening—which basically means she now has access to as much pain medicine as she needs to feel comfortable.

Dad called to break the news Monday morning. Thanks to Mom I wasn’t surprised about hospice, but I was very surprised to hear he was calling from the ER.

They discharged her Monday afternoon. She went to bed around 7:30 and my parents finally got their first full night of sleep in 2025.

The shift in the mood around the house is palpable. Mom is still the bright and shining Lady in Red who, year after year for more than 20 years, ranked among the top 10 sales associates at Neiman Marcus in Scottsdale’s Fashion Square.

She is committed to continuing to live each day she has left just like she has lived every other day up till now—with a smile, giving thanks to the Lord for her many blessings and encouraging everyone who comes to see her.

We have not been given any kind of timetable for how long we can expect to have her with us. The cancer is primarily concentrated in her bones, and we do not know how it might grow.

While we have her, we are gathering together every day to celebrate her life for one more day of extra time with Mom.

She has always loved giving and receiving flowers. If you would like to do something nice to brighten Mom’s day, consider sending her a nice spring bouquet.

We’ve set up this SignUpGenius to keep the flowers coming as she continues to be a bright and shining light of love and encouragement.

If you know Mom or Dad’s phone numbers, please feel free to send them encouraging videos expressing your love and gratitude.

As people come to see her, I’ve started asking them to tell me about Margo. It has been such a blessing to hear stories about my amazing Mom!

If you’re looking, here’s something you can do for me:

If you happen to see me out and about—now or after Mom dies—please say hello and tell me a story about my amazing mom.

I’ve never had anyone close to me die so I’m not sure what that is going to be like. One thing I do know: hearing your story about Mom will be exactly what I need from you in that moment.

Same for Dad, Meagan or Melissa —just say hi and tell us about a time Margo...