I went for a prayer-meet for a friend's brother who died of cancer. The cancer was detected at it's last stage. Leukemia. Within two months the cancer had spread all over his body. There was clotting in his brain and he was paralyzed from his left side.
He loved his hair. My friend addressing the prayer meet said that he collected his hair in a box and stored it. He stored is hair in a box and made a list of things. There were six things on the list. After 60 days into the disease he could not speak, he spoke words but no one could recognize what he said. "I want coffee" became "coffee" and eventually "mug"
He went to the library to read Shakespeare. After a while his knees grew weak. He was a student of English Literature. His friends made a card for him and lit candles as I helplessly sat in a room staring at his sister's face. His sister was an incredibly strong woman who spoke at length about losing her brother to a disease that crushed him, physically but not mentally.
His friend recited a poem for him. And then began to cry.
The girls and boys around me started to talk about their life. I stared into the white floor in front.
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