“Still the Same Person”: Sid and Karen Kernighan Share Their Story of Love, Laughter, and Life with ALS

In the Kernighan family home in St. George, New Brunswick, love reveals itself not through grand declarations, but in smaller, more enduring gestures: the steadying of a shoulder, a shared laugh that cuts through the heaviness of illness, the quiet determination to keep living fully—even as time brings with it new challenges.

That was the portrait rendered in a recent episode of Southwest Magazine, where host Vicki Hogarth sat down with Sidney and Karen Kernighan to share a story shaped by ALS—Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis—but never defined by it.

Sidney was diagnosed in 2019. “We could’ve fallen off our chairs,” Karen remembers of that life-altering moment. The prognosis offered no clear timeline, only a horizon clouded with unknowns. “We didn’t know if we had five hours, five months, or five days.” That haunting uncertainty now lingers in the margins of their daily life.

Yet if ALS came like a thief, it did not take everything. Sidney, a lifelong resident of Charlotte County, refused to surrender to the diagnosis. 

"He's not staying home and staying inside the house and waiting to die because it's inevitable for all of us at some point in our life we're going to pass on," said Karen. She and her husband made a decision—to live not in denial, but in defiance of despair. "Our philosophy is that we're going to get out and enjoy life as much as we can and stay in the community and let people know that this disease doesn't have to define you. He's still the same person. He might not be able to talk like he used to talk, but I don't have any trouble understanding. And he still makes me laugh. So, we just take the positive things and enjoy each other."

And so, they do.

With the aid of a walker, a scooter, and an ironclad sense of humour, Sidney remains present—engaged with his community, his family, his life. He adapts with practical resolve. “If you don’t take the things that people recommend to you, then you’re going to go behind,” Karen says. Their story is not just about survival, but about maintaining agency and dignity amid decline.

That dignity is sustained, in no small part, by their community. Neighbours, friends, and fellow parishioners have rallied around them. “I can only sing praises,” Karen says, “for the people in this community.” Their support is not transactional—it’s born of affection and respect. Sidney, long admired for his warmth and quiet leadership, remains a touchstone of grace under pressure.

There are caregiving routines, yes—but also bright, everyday moments that punctuate the darker days: Sunday drives, shared walks, the way Sidney still makes Karen laugh. “I love this man,” she says, her eyes soft but sure. The bond they share—tempered by time, tested by illness—has only grown more luminous.

They are also fierce advocates. The Kernighans participate in ALS walks, raise funds, and use their story to bring visibility to a disease that too often remains hidden. “Sidney wants to help people,” Karen says. “Don’t let this disease put you in a situation where you become so depressed that you give up.” Their message, gentle but insistent, is as much a rallying cry as it is a lifeline.

Toward the end of the interview, Sidney surprises Hogarth with a small gift: a gas card, a humorous and kind response to her recent misadventure running out of fuel that she shared on Facebook. The gesture, both funny and thoughtful, is pure Sid. He may no longer speak in long sentences, but his expressions—his eyes, his laughter, his presence—say everything.

The Kernighans’ story resists easy conclusions. ALS offers no tidy resolutions. But within the quiet heroism of their days lies something rarer: a portrait of resilience, a masterclass in enduring love, a lesson in how to hold on to joy when nothing is promised.

“Just accept it,” Karen says. “But stay positive.”

That, more than anything, is the gift the Kernighans offer—not just to those facing ALS, but to anyone navigating hardship: that there is still dignity in the effort, still meaning in the moment, still beauty in the trying. And true love is forever.