He is my best friend and brother, if not by blood then by heart.
We’d known each other since we were born. Our parents were friends. He was born four months before I was. It’s the only time either of us can remember not spending almost everyday with each other. We ate together, went to school together, and graduated together.
When he was diagnosed with leukemia, I’m not sure who was more horrified – me, or his family. It definitely wasn’t him, though. I don’t think I saw him cry once. Not through the initial diagnosis. Not through chemotherapy. Not when he went into remission, and then found out he was relapsing and the medicine wasn’t working.
He is my best friend and brother. His strength both inspires and pushes me on. If he can remain resolute when he has a prognosis of twelve months, then…
Well. Everything else seems mild in comparison.