The End

My uncle passed away last night. He was 69.

He shared the cause of death with my father. Cancer.

In the final days, as with my Dad, the end was long and slow and painful.

Cancer takes no prisoners. It isn't pretty. It doesn't play fair.

Cancer takes the person you loved and wrings them from the inside out. It takes all the things they loved, everything that was important to them and everyone in their orbit, and renders it insignificant. It strips them of their dignity.

When I go, I pray to God that it's not cancer that gets me.

I'd far rather have a giant ACME safe fall from sky on to my unsuspecting head, then suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous cancer.

I'd rather die in my sleep with my hair fanned around my pillow.

"I'm not afraid of dying," Woody Allen said, "I just don't want to be there when it happens."

Hug the people you love today. Extra tight.