She had leukemia.

An uncurable disease.

They said,

“She fought well.”

And,

“She will always be an inspiration to us.”

Yes,

She will be.

At least,

The smiling girl she use to be,

Will be.

But those pictures,

Will never show,

The raw beauty,

Of an endless struggle,

And a bottomless heart.

They might show,

A picture of her,

When she was two months into Chemo,

And still had the hope,

That she could get better.

Well,

She didn’t.

People still say,

To me in the hall,

“I’m so sorry. She was wonderful.”

No,

She wasn’t.

She wasn’t brave,

Or wonderful,

She was extraordinary.

And the most extraordinary people,

Are the ones,

Who always seem to,

Leave us.

And I almost,

Shouted in the hall,

“She was so much more than that.”

And she was.

She was the tears,

She cried when she had to,

Shave her head,

And the broken compact,

She threw across the room.

She was the positive smile,

She would always wear,

Wheeling her wheel chair,

Into the children’s section,

As she read story books,

To the girl whose heart,

Was not working,

Like a heart,

And the the little boy,

Who had a tumor growing,

Inside his head.

She sang with the girl,

Who had lost her voice,

Because of cancer,

And now,

It was back wanting,

The rest of her.

She played chess with,

The boy who knew,

The name of his cancer,

Before he ever had it.

(Hepatocellular Carcinoma)

She was her soft “Thank you’s,”

To every nurse and doctor,

And the distant small smile she wore,

Whenever she felt cancer,

Rise it’s ugly head inside her.

She was the wirthering mass,

She would become,

When that head struck,

And the sad pale girl,

Who croaked out every morning,

“The sunrise is so beautiful.”

Even when,

Her thick,

Heavy curtains were drawn.

She was the carefully scribbled,

Pictures from her friends,

In the children’s ward,

Taped to the wall,

And the long detailed letters,

From the older patients.

She kept those,

Not the pink paper hearts,

That every girl in school sent her,

Or the thick papered letters,

That all her teacher’s sent,

Or the get-well cards,

From everyone she had ever met.

Because she had that effect on people:

One smile,

And you knew,

She was special.

But cancer,

Seemed to know that too,

Because it took her.

The last time I ever saw her,

Was when she was all but a pale shadow,

Purple viens colouring her skin,

And warm eyes,

The color of honey.

It was then she told me,

With a slack smile,

“I never chose to get cancer,

Or to know the truth,

That was going to die,

But I did choose,

What I was going to do with,

That news.

I chose to,

To lift others up,

While it was dragging me down,

And gives others hope,

When I felt hopeless. I chose to believe,

When all belief was gone,

And I chose to live,

Instead of laying in a plastic hospital bed,

And staring a white ceiling.

Just thinking scary thoughts,

And letting dark fears,

Overwhelm me.”

I made her promise,

An hour before,

She drew her last breath.

I promised her,

That I would visit all,

Her friends in the children’s ward,

And in other places.

And I did,

And I watched as,

Beds emptied,

As kids died,

So cancer could live.

Soon her friends,

Were all but gone,

Except for,

A lucky few.

But I never forgot,

What she had told me,

Or the faces,

Of all the kids,

When they heard,

And there would be no cheery sticky notes,

From room 204 anymore,

Delivered by,

A smiling nurse.

There would be,

No more wheel chair sounds,

As she wheeled herself through the halls.

Because she was gone.

Those kids knew,

More sadness and struggle,

Then I ever could.

The girl without a voice,

Opened her mouth in a silent scream,

And the boy chucked his chess set across the room.

The girl whose heart,

Was not working like a heart,

Sat there,

A few silent warrior tears,

Sliding down her face.

The little boy,

Who had a tumor,

Growing inside his head,

Mumbled as clearly as he could,

As his mother sobbed,

At his bedside,

Because this was the first sentence,

He had spoken all week,

“No. She can’t go bye-bye!”

The little children,

Who she read to,

Sobbed quietly,

As some of them whispered,

No.”

“But we loved her!”

“She said she come back!”

She was extraordinary,

And I am sorry,

You never saw that,

While you were,

Too focused on her disease,

And not the person.