Growing up, I went through a lot of “fair weather friends” and found myself constantly questioning people’s intentions. Through my very formative years, I had a constant. That constant was my friend, Kevin. I never had to question Kevin’s intentions with me. I knew he cared about me, would do anything for me and loved me. He was always there.

When Kev was in the 5^th grade, he was diagnosed with cancer. I have a very vague memory of my mom telling me that he was sick. Because I was only in 4^th grade, I don’t remember her exact words or where we were or what I was wearing- but I do remember how it made me feel. It invoked an overwhelming feeling of confusion, fear and anxiety. At my young age, I had already experienced loss from cancer, so I could sort of understand what was happening. As the battle between Kevin and “the C word” forged on and got more intense, he and I got older. With every age I hit, I began to comprehend the reality of Kevin’s situation a little deeper. Kevin and I had a bond and relationship that was special, and no one really knew about it. People knew we were friends, but I don’t think they knew how close we actually were. We had a friendship and a bond that we didn’t feel like we had to flaunt. It was just ours.

While Kevin fought, his family had blue bracelets made that read, "Kevin Cordasco Courage-Strength-Believe." That was his mantra. I slid a blue bracelet on my small 9 year old wrist, and today, I look down at my 20 year old wrist and see it still. This blue bracelet is like a dog: dependable. I swear to you it will be the "something blue" at my wedding! It’s almost like a life-line for me. Without it, I feel incomplete. With it, I feel like Kev is with me. It makes me feel safe and secure.

Believe me, he battled the shit out of this thing. He was, is, always will be, a fighter. Despite the battle he fought, Kevin never changed. Every time I went to his house, met him for dinner, or even texted him, he was still the same Kevin I knew. He never got down on himself or thought for one second that he couldn't do it. Not only would I do anything for Kevin, but he would do anything for me. That is a rare friendship to find. Kevin taught me a lot over the years. He taught me how to be courageous, how to be strong, and most importantly, what believing really meant. He also told me to never take life too seriously.

4 years ago today, on March 11, 2013 Kevin lost his battle with cancer. I remember that day vividly. I remember what seat I was sitting in in the lecture hall. I remember scrolling through Facebook pretending to take notes. I remember the stale air in the room. I remember the faint smell of cheerios and gym socks. I remember time stopped and tears blurred my vision like opening your eyes under water. I remember my heart breaking. I remember all of it. Although I have unfortunately lost many people to cancer in my life, losing Kevin was different. It's hard to explain but when someone you're close to, who you grew up with, went to school with (from elementary school through high school), who is your age- it stuns you. It puts things into perspective. I know that I cherish every day a little more, hug people a little longer, listen a little better, and hold hands a little tighter. I hope this article helps you do that too. Next time you're going through a hard time, remember Kevin. Remember how he lived his life. He had an impact on too many people to count. Continue the legacy he left: have courage, be strong, and believe always.

Not a day goes by that I don't think about Kevin. I am so honored to have gotten the privilege of having him in my life. I adore him and his family beyond words. Not only was he inspirational, funny, kind, strong, and handsome, but he was my hero. I miss him everyday. I love you Kevin.

If you would like to learn about and/or donate to the amazing Something Yellow Kevin Cordasco Foundation started by Kevin's wonderful family, click the link below. Lets put an end to cancer.
http://www.somethingyellow.