Just last Wednesday, March 21st, I found out from my father that my uncle's cancer had gone to an extreme. It spread from his intestines, to his liver and brain. Meaning, he could be passing away any day now. Words couldn't express just how upset I was. It didn't help that my uncle was in Alabama, about 1000 miles and a 12 hour drive away. My dad and I made the agreement that we needed to see him as soon as possible -- so we could see him and give him support and love that he and his family needed. Technically, he wasn't my uncle, but I consider him family. They treated us exactly like family while we were living in Alabama.
That Friday, my dad and I made the long drive to Alabama, starting at 2am when he got off work. We got in early afternoon, and was welcomed by the rest of his family, which consisted of his mother and father, his sister and two nieces, his daughter, son, wife, and another family member that had came to visit. After a little while, we went into my uncle's room where he lied on his bed. He looked . . . so exhausted. He was yellow, his eyes no longer had a single glimpse of white, and I saw that as proof that his liver is failing. He pulled the covers off of his body and greeted us with a gentle hug. Seeing him so weak made me want to cry. This man used to have more muscle than my own father, but now he was so skinny and fragile-looking. His legs shook as he walked, he couldn't even stand up straight.
You may wonder, "What makes this man so different than all the other cancer patients in this world?"
Well, he's a complete hero to me.
While we were there, he looked like he was much happier, he wanted to get out and do so many things as if he wasn't ill at all. He and the family went out to the casino, fishing, and to the flea market. Even if he was in such a horrible condition -- pretty much on Death's doormat -- he didn't hesitate to do the things he loved. A lot of people who have cancer at this point in time and his same condition would pretty much do nothing but sit around and feel sorry for themselves, with lack of hope.
I completely admire the hope he has, and that he never gives up on it. And though he's so close to death -- he acts like he isn't. He wants to get up and do things, not just sit around and let his illness take control of his life. He still goes out of his way to spend time with his family, go to church, and do the very activities that he loves. Over a year ago, he was told he had only 6 months left to live. He said he would beat that, and he did, by a long shot.
To me, heroes don't always have to wear capes, have superpowers, or even save lives. My personal definition of a hero is someone who comes into your life and prove that there's still hope in this world.
And that's exactly why he's a hero to me.
Hang in there Uncle, I love you so much.
~Kandy334, signing off.