You are a formidable foe. That we will admit. For five years we bask in the glory that we have defeated you. That we have eradicated you!
Or so we thought.
But you came back. Even with a vengeance. Now your are in a stance to take what was denied of you for the past five years. You are so ready to take your kill. You are again victorious.
But you are wrong!
You did not defeat us. We did not cower in your presence. We have fought a good fight. We looked at you in the eye and in spite of you always lurking in the shadows, we lived our lives to the fullest.
Our faith grew deeper. Our hope soared higher. Our ties grew stronger. We laughed. We loved. We lived!
And that you cannot take away from us.
So tell your friend, Death, that we are not afraid of him too. “O death where is thy sting, o grave, where is thy victory?”
The body may be broken, but not our spirits. As for you, Cancer, you never conquered us! * Invictus is Latin for unconquered. It is also a poem by 19th century English poet William Ernest Henley. He wrote the poem while he laid in a hospital bed battling a life-threatening illness.
** Dedicated to my mother, on her last dance.