If I was better at science, I would commit myself to finding the cure for Cancer. It has affected my life, my family's lives, and a lot of my friend's lives also. The first person I ever witnessed die slowly from this horribly debilitating disease, was my nanny Jenn. She was so sweet, and kind, and beautiful, and all around lovely. She was engaged to my parrain when she found out about the Breast Cancer. They visited doctors, she had her breast removed, and she was better. For a while. Then she went into full remission, and she had to have her other breast removed. But by then, it was too late. We watched her fight, laugh, cry, and show her awesome courage in the face of death. And she gave us so much to miss when she left. We thought, prayed, hoped, that was the last of Cancer's deadly touch on our lives. For some of us, it never even crossed our mind that we'd have to fight this disease again. But we did. And we didn't win. We found out my pawpaw had Cancer, maybe two years ago. This was even worse, to me. I was older, and could see exactly how bad it as this time. I wasn't a little kid anymore, and I knew it was a very real possibility that we wouldn't make it through this whole. And we didn't. PawPaw fought so hard, and he showed such a brave face, that I partly believed he'd beat the Brain Cancer. Until the day my aunt asked us all to come say goodbye. I guess I was in denial at that point, because I couldn't figure out why we were saying goodbye. And then everyone started crying. And I was so scared to look, but I had to know. His chest wasn't moving. I knew then, why we were all crying. And I cried the hardest I ever had in my life. We started healing, and I started praying for a cure for Cancer. For a break in research, ANYthing. I started day dreaming about traveling to meadows and fields, gardens and orchards, anything with plants that could end up the cure. I dreamed I'd pick some flowers, and miraculously KNOW that one of those flowers was the cure. And then my uncle was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer. My family would go to visit him, and I'd refuse. I couldn't do it. I couldn't travel to see someone that you didn't know would live until you got there. Or might even die before you left for home. I couldn't see the life leave a person again. I couldn't see the fight in their eyes, trying to cover that resignation. I couldn't see the desperate peace on their face when they knew they wouldn't make it; felt it in their heart. But I knew I couldn't stay away. So I went to see him. And it shamed me to see how excited he was to hug me, to say hello when he really meant goodbye. He died soon after that. Right after he started to look better. And I treasure that visit; the look on his face. The warm hug that was no less amazing for the bones poking me. At this point, I am clinging to the happy thought of seeing them all in Heaven. Of them meeting me at the gates, of them saying they missed me and were proud of me shoving aside my fears. And then my aunt was diagnosed. Soon, she had every Cancer you could think of. She'd get a little better, and then she would get worse than ever before. She soon had a breathing machine, could barely walk, lost her hair, and had to move in with her son. I am glad to say I spent a lot of time with her. I am ashamed to say that I avoided her eyes, looking at her scarf, or asking how she felt. I hated hearing her cough, seeing her grow tired faster than people twice her age, and her labored breathing. She fought harder and longer than anyone. So hard, that I was beginning to think Cancer would lose. That she would outlive us all, and stand at our gravesides. But I was wrong. And it was so sudden, so sad, I think I'm still in shock. She inspires me, and I can't wait to see her, too, in Heaven. This time, I never had a chance to pray against Cancer. Too too soon, I was hearing one of my friend's was diagnosed with Lung Cancer. He started a trial treatment, and I pray for him every night. He finished the trial treatment, and his doctor's believe he's beat Cancer. We're all keeping our eyes on him for any signs of remission, and he looks like he will beat Cancer so hard, it will avoid him and anyone connected to him for centuries to come. But I can't help but pray. And I ask you to pray also. During all of these years of Cancer and fighting, and sadness, I met a family who was fighting the same thing. Titus, a young boy about 7 years old, just beat Cancer. He is home now, and they are also keeping their eyes on him. I pray he will live so old, and never enter remission. I pray they can laugh that they watched him so vigilantly. I pray that he will live to die laughing on his 110th birthday. I pray he grows up to find the cure for Cancer, and helps others fight this disease that is becoming an epidemic. I pray I never have to pray for his family to get through their child's death. I ask you to pray for that, also. This is my story. The story I share with my whole family and my friends. I pray for Cancer's own death sentence. I ask you to, also. Thank you for this chance to let it all out, to make a difference. Thank you.