It took a good man. A big, strong, solid, vibrant, loving man.
It took him, and knocked the wind out of his sails. Drained his big, strong, solid, vibrant, loving body and weakened it, day by slow, excruciating day.
Took his pride. Took his feelings. Took his hopes and wishes away, and left him hollow.
With skeletal eyes, it made him gaze at me. Causing constant pain, it led him to hold my hand and say nothing.
A beautiful man was taken out.
A man that was loved and was loving.
Pancreatic cancer grows, like a silence.
A death sentence that makes no sense.
A sentence that took away a whole book of a life.
This is cancer.