When I walked through the backdoor after a night out with Ming for some mediocre Japanese food and a bad action flick, the first thing my brother said to me was, "Have you been on Vancouver Sun yet?". I naturally asked, "Why?".
"Vancouver Sun, " he repeats, not elaborating any further.
I went on vancouversun.com and
there it was.
It's vague but I do remember years and years ago, my brother told me about the blogs he follows. I don't remember much about them other than that there are blogs that he follows. But I still remember that one night when he had said to me, "You know this blog that I follow? The guy has cancer."
That's all he said. My brother is, I would say, a man of few words. Don't get me wrong, he has a lot to say. A lot. And more often than not, very interesting things. But he will carry his stories and tidbits and facts, with the fewest words possible to convey them. Sometimes, he'll ramble too, because the story is that interesting to require that many words.
But that night, that's all he said.
And then, from then till today, he'd give me random updates with just as many words. "It's getting worse."
"What is?".
"You know that blog that I read? The cancer is getting worse." And that would be all.
It could have been months ago or years ago that he said to me, "He's dying."
He has gone on to tell me how he's been coping. How hard it is for him to get out of bed. How many times he throws up in a day. He blogged about it all and my brother read it.
It was just this past Saturday when he told me in the car, "He's house-bound now. He loves Diet Cherry Coke and has asked whoever's going down South to bring back some for him." I asked him if he wanted to do the same because we could definitely do the same, but I learned that Coke had already sent him a good supply of it along with a care package.
I know that deep down, through reading his blog through all these years, my brother cared. And him telling me only small tidbits of what he reads, I inevitably also cared.
Today was the same. In the fewest words. I learned that he has passed away. And with a click on the link that Vancouver Sun provided, I began to read Derek Miller's blog for the first time.
I did start from the last post. And reading about his treatments and punishments from cancer was hard. But at the same time, his posts always left me with a sense of... hope. Not hope for a longer life. Or that he would somehow make it through and come out of it alive. But hope in that one would understand that inevitably, we cannot control a lot of things in life... but you still have to enjoy and appreciate all the good things.
He wrote and I quote :
"
I've also been lucky. I've never had to wonder where my next meal will come from. I've never feared that a foreign army will come in the night with machetes or machine guns to kill or injure my family. I've never had to run for my life (something I could never do now anyway). Sadly, these are things some people have to do every day right now. "
So, to hope.
Hope that we all will remember how very lucky we are. No matter the circumstances. I think that is truly the way to stay happy. :)
On a lighter note...
I don't understand why my brother keeps telling me to stop writing essays. My posts are way too long, he says. But some of Derek Miller's posts are longer!
Bro : I know you read this and I know you'd hate that I write about you on my blog. But hey, you said I've so far somehow made you seem like a prick (I still don't see how I have!) but I don't think this post is so bad, is it? ;) ).
