Cancer is a canvas painted by the strong. This is until it breeds inside someone. Only, someone is a loved one. Although, my Nonno believes in hope. He lives in two ways; one way is with desire for life; one way is in fear. Fear consumes him most of the time. A hypochondriac with cancer knows no serenity. And the surreptitious whispers of malignant cells kill. He dreadfully knows this. But somehow, he still fights something undeserved. Illness just barges in without knocking first. Some divine force supposedly predestined this life. We pray to whatever inflicted this on him. Still yet, faith and illness don't agree. At times, his subconscious mind
shrivels apart. Somehow, he stays strong for everyone else. Cancer's ego may be sanctimonious. But, my Nonno is a reminder of life's meaning. He is my symbol of true bravery.