The Passing of Daniel Vokhgelt

I didn't know him.

This isn't an obituary. I don't have any direct connection. Besides, this obituary is beautiful.

May we all leave such a loving legacy when we depart this world.

- - -

Singularly-focused, cancer is...elegant. Tragically so. It feeds. It grows. Abnormal cells divide without control, invading. Cancer corrupts. It thrives as it destroys. It's a suicidal assassin—dying with its host. The perfect end for a perfect killer.

Cancer knows no borders, no boundaries, it respects nothing. It's a ruthless, opportunistic predator—silent and cold.

As patients we "fight" it; we "battle". Supporters nobilify our struggle, honoring us for our suffering.

Should we win our battle, we are declared "survivors".

Should we lose, we're dead.

But, do we ever really win?

How do you fight a force of nature?

- - -

I'm a survivor. Twice-over.

But, I'm still fighting cancer.

You see, I haven't won anything.

Cancer is bigger than me. It's always there. It always will be.

The soul of cancer is in me. And that is a blessing.

- - -

How do you fight something bigger than you?

One battle at a time.

- - -

Daniel did not lose his fight. He didn't lose his will. Daniel died.

The disease was too much. It was elegant, ruthless...lethal.

It did what it does.

- - -

Cancer is bigger than me. It's always there. It always will be.

Cancer is bigger than you, too.

Right now, cancer is bigger than all of us.

That must change.

In the wake of Daniel's life, the question is not: "what have we lost?"

The question is: "how will we live?"

How will you live?

Cancer is bigger than you. It's always there. It always will be.

We can change that.

What will be will be what will be.
We've got this.