Sometimes you meet a person who is so special they blow you away.
And recently, I was lucky enough to meet a man who touched me to the very core in this way: Doddie Weir.
Like most of Scotland – and many beyond – I’d heard of Doddie Weir.
He was a formidable rugby player, earning 61 caps for his country and a call up for the British and Irish Lions.
And then, aged just 46, he was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease (MND).
That was six years ago.
Since then, Doddie Weir has defied the odds simply by being here.
And my goodness has he made his presence felt.
If you watched Scotland take on New Zealand on Sunday (and we so should have had a historic win) you couldn’t have failed to spot Doddie.
The game was played in his honour.
The Scotland squad donned purple tops with their numbers on the back in Doddie’s trademark tartan.
There was hardly a dry eye at Murrayfield – and certainly not my house – when the team applauded him, his wife and three sons, along with the whole of the stadium before kick off.
A kiss and a lesson: my close encounter with Doddie Weir
I first met Doddie last Summer at the Pride of Scotland awards.
I’d seen him at a couple of events and wanted to say hello. But he was always surrounded by pals and other admirers, so I had held back.
What would I say? Maybe he’d be fed up with small talk.
In short, I got cold feet.
But then I saw him at a table, with no crowds around him, and knew what I wanted to say.
“Hello Doddie, my name’s Martel and I think you’re great,” I told him.
“I have three sons, like you. We all think you’re great.”
And he smiled. That smile. Not just with his mouth but with twinkling eyes full of mischief.
“I know who you are,” he said.
“I watch Homes Under The Hammer every morning. And I think you’re great.”
I laughed with joy. The din of the room swelled and I struggled to hear what he was saying.
But I did distinctly hear him say: “Give me a kiss.”
So I did.
And I didn’t stop, kissing his forehead, across it, down to his cheek and round half his his face.
We both laughed and I bounced back to my seat, knowing something special had just happened.
Doddie taught me in that moment that kindness and fun can be seen through your eyes.
He taught me he was stronger and bigger than MND in that moment – managing to convey the essence of who he was, no matter if his body was failing.
And who he was – still is – is one of the most special people I have ever met.
MND charity work will leave a lasting legacy
I attended a fundraiser last week for his charity My Name’5 Doddie and he was there.
Awards were given to fundraisers who had done all manner of things to raise fortunes for his charity.
Millions have been raised so far with funds being donated as grants to help sufferers or to aid research.
MND is shockingly underfunded and Doddie wants this money to help people now and after he’s gone.
At that fundraiser, I met his lovely wife, who told me Doddie had told her of our last meeting.
I 💜 Doddie Weir. Scotland 💜 Doddie Weir. We all 💜 Doddie Weir. Now, COME ON SCOTLAND #SCOvNZL @MNDoddie5 https://t.co/4NllK7jVaf
— Martel Maxwell (@MartelMaxwell) November 13, 2022
I kissed Doddie again and we laughed and I wondered at the magnet of love that he is.
Then there was the Murrayfield tribute, when the smile didn’t leave his face for the duration of that ovation.
Doddie Weir has changed our understanding of MND.
He has given his life and his courage to his campaign and he has given people hope.
Legend is a word that is overused, but in the case of Doddie Weir, it doesn’t even come close.
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