Losing my brother to glioblastoma inspired me to join the Boot Walk

I was 12 when my 19-year-old brother, Brandon, was diagnosed with glioblastoma, the most common and aggressive form of brain cancer. I remember sitting in the waiting room at MD Anderson with my parents for nine hours during his first surgery, as I filed my nails down to nothing, watched the news and wondered if Brandon was really going to be OK like he said he would be. He fought his 22-month battle with pure grace, dignity and humor. I used to get upset because Brandon was such a selfless person and this was the reward he got? An incurable disease? I know he wouldn’t want us to think that way, so I try to think about the positive things he taught me instead. What I’ve learned from my brother Brandon was always protective and supportive, and he showed me unconditional love as far back as I can remember. I’m told he always loved being my big brother. He was a really good guy who was extremely funny and goofy, genuinely cared about others and had excellent taste. He appreciated people and wanted others to do the same. One time when we were walking through a parking lot, I threw my gum on the ground. Brandon asked me if I liked when I stepped in gum. I looked at him and said, “No.” He told me that if I don’t like it, other people probably don’t like it, and if I was one less human who was throwing their gum on the ground, I was helping. He taught me that I have my own path, and it might be...