Last year, my family formed "Buddy's buddies" as a way of remembering Buddy on his 40th birthday. In a year when we couldn't gather, we were able to join together, from afar, and ride in his memory.

I lost my brother to childhood cancer when I was six years old. I still remember the good times, playing, riding bikes, and sharing bunkbeds. But I also remember the endless trips to London to go to the hospital, and a summer of frequently staying with aunts, uncles, grandparents, sometimes being at home, and sometimes being at the Ronald McDonald House.

The reality is that stories of childhood cancer will always exist. But in the future, these stories will have a different ending. The cancer will end. And the child will live on.