Independence has always been an odd idea to me.

You're told your whole life that it is something you need to be.

I mean, sure. Independence is great sometimes. You turn 15 and suddenly you need a job, 17 college brochures, a driver's permit, and a credit card.

You're told that, "In the end, nobody is gonna be there but you, so depend on yourself, and only yourself." This is technically true. But not in its entirety.

Tell me, what are you supposed to do when you are brought to the hospital because you can't feel your legs? How're you supposed to tell your friends, your family, and your teammates that you suddenly have cancer and the doctors are saying that it "doesn't look good?"

These are not lessons your family or your teachers have plans to help you work through. No one can teach you how to be strong and, honestly? No one can expect you to be. Being diagnosed with a life-threatening disease is not something anyone can expect you to just be okay with, or to deal with on your own.

Let me ask you a question. What's so good about being on your own?

Luke Blanock is a boy (and I say 'is' because him not physically being here does not change anything) who was diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma in December of 2013. This is a rare and aggressive cancer that settles in bone marrow and soft tissues. He was only 16 at the time.

When the news of his "career-ending" diagnosis hit the community of Canon-McMillan, the people did not tell him to, "buck up and stop complaining! It's only your bones, dude!" In fact, he never once complained, so nobody really had the opportunity to do so.

At the time of his diagnosis, it was basketball season. And yes, he played basketball. This created an uproar of support and love from the people at his school. They created the hashtag #LukeStrong, which trended on Twitter and Facebook. It eventually reached the desks of various news stations in the Pittsburgh area and Luke's story became the words on everybody's lips.

I watched all of this happen. I would find myself crying because I couldn't understand why life was being so unfair to him. His diagnosis was fought with highs and lows, then more highs, followed by more lows. But not once did he show any sign of discouragement or pain.

Things seemed to be going well for Luke as he was rounding bravely against the disease. There was a time when he was actually able to go back to sports, and back to school. I would see him in the hallway and he would be laughing and always smiling, despite the fact he was in a wheelchair.

In part, this came from his independence. His inner will. But it also came from the love and support of his community. Things were great for a hot minute. I actually hadn't heard any positive or negative news regarding his health until senior year came. That was the school year of 2015/2016.

Towards the end of the first semester, it was announced that things had taken a bad direction. Luke's cancer had turned terminal. I remember reading the news on someone's Facebook post during study hall and I was a mess. Tears were everywhere and my heart was broken for him. I never even knew him too personally, but he is the kinda guy you just know has a good heart.

After study hall that day, I had stopped by Mr. Bell's room. He was my teacher and Luke's basketball coach. I was crying and I just looked at him and said, "I'm so sorry," and he didn't even have to question why.

A month following that story, we found out that Luke had proposed to Natalie, his high school sweetheart. His words on the proposal were, "I'm not marrying Natalie to make her a widow. I'm marrying Natalie to spend 50 years with her." Yes, the then 18-year-old said that. I cried and swooned at the same time.

The community found out about the engagement and things got wild. The people of Canonsburg, and even beyond, came together to give the couple the best wedding they could possibly give. They were married a month after the proposal and spent about six months together in marital bliss. Well, as blissful as possible given the circumstances.

Sunday, August 7, 2016. This was the day that reality of life and togetherness came full circle. You'll read some articles that say, "Luke Blanock, a teen with terminal cancer loses his battle with Ewing's sarcoma." But no. Luke did not "lose" any battle. I say that because how many Ewing's survivors do you know that lived three years post diagnosis, won a basketball championship, graduated high school and married the love of their life? All without ever losing their courage and will to fight?

This article was not written to hurt your heart, and I promise you that. If anything, it was written to tell you the story of a teenage boy who was able to look past the chemotherapy and courage-breaking situation to find the silver lining in everything. His story is being told to prove that you have the choice to be happy with what you have and all of the people who love you, or to sulk about in misery, alone. In exile.

Luke has taught me to never let someone's facts change your own experience. He has taught me that it's absolutely okay to cry, and to be scared, and to love life all at the same time. Luke has brought people together, from Good Morning, America! in New York City, all the way to Canonsburg, Pennsylvania, and even beyond. And not just because he had some tough luck with his bone marrow. But because he took life by the horns, and made cancer his subtitle rather than his heading.

Self-dependence is important, yes. But do not doubt or underestimate the power of community, and family, and love. They are stronger than just one soul. It takes only one spark to ignite a fire.

Take home the story of Luke Blanock, the boy whose changed the lives of so many he never got to meet. #LukeStrong now, #Luke strong forever.