Jog-ging through my memory

I have a friend, he has cancer.
"So what?", you may ask,
"So have many others."
Sure there are 'many others'.
Your own family maybe,
someone you are close to,
someone you knew for a very long time.
Maybe even someone you grew to love.
Maybe you've seen them waste away.
Maybe you're seeing it happen right now.
It hurts and I know you can't describe it.
I know you'll tell me,
that they're fighting bravely,
they're so strong.
And black and white pictures
of kids in beds
with family around holding their hands
comes to my mind,
as it does to yours.
But words will fail you.
The pictures vanish in an instant.
You see before you this young man.
Who loves travelling,
seeking danger,
taking his friends out
to explore a haunted house.
A sparkle in his eyes, so bright,
that you begin to wonder if someone played
a nasty joke.
He teases his friends like I would.
He has a girlfriend.
He argues with quiet vehemence.
The life in him is so strong
that you are struck speechless.
And yet, when the end seemed so close,
there was no doubt that he will keep standing.

I had a friend, his name was Jog.