When I found out, I felt like the air had been knocked out of me. I was sitting in a lecture at a copy editor’s conference in St. Louis on Thursday when I got the first push notification from The New York Times on my iPad: Roger Ebert had died.

My first thought was that it might be one of those cases where a news outlet reports a faulty death.

But soon I saw more and more organizations reporting Mr. Ebert’s death, and I began to realize and eventually accept it.

Yet I could not stop thinking that only two days earlier he announced on his blog that his cancer had returned.

A two-day leave of presence.

Among the countless stories pouring in about Mr. Ebert and his influential effect on the film world, I can’t help but notice that most of them barely mention his cancer, the disease that took this great man away from us.

Cancer is a sudden, nasty and life-changing disease.

Mr. Ebert was first diagnosed with thyroid cancer in 2002. In 2006, he had his lower jaw removed because of a tumor in his salivary glands. He was hospitalized in December 2012 for a fractured hip.

Cancer affects not only the person with the disease, but also those who surround, love and admire that person.

It affects the course of lives. It throws lives into chaos. It provides challenges that no one believes they will ever have to face.

Mr. Ebert loved to talk. At his funeral, Mr. Ebert’s stepdaughter, Sonia Evans, said, “He realized connecting with people is the main reason we’re here.”  

Who would have thought that Mr. Ebert would ever lose his ability to speak to people with his own voice?

Cancer surrounds us all, and it seems like every year cancer cases become more prevalent.

I have an aunt and a cousin with cancer, the latter of whom is currently undergoing chemotherapy treatments. Last summer I nannied for a mother who needed help with her two young kids while she went to and recovered from treatments. She has since been cancer-free. A high-school friend of mine recently emerged victorious from her battle with lung cancer. A family friend was recently diagnosed with cancer. Another family friend lost his battle a year ago.

But depending on how a person and the family handle the cancer, there can be tiny silver linings.

I’ve seen cancer bring families together, because that core unit is one heck of an important support system.

I’ve seen cancer unite schools to rally for their beloved students with a most undesired disease.

I’ve seen cancer make a mother’s love for her children persevere and grow.

And I’ve seen the personal strength of those who are left living after a loved one loses the fight.

Chaz Hammelsmith, Mr. Ebert’s wife of 20 years, said in a statement Thursday, “We had a lovely, lovely life together, more beautiful and epic than a movie.”

Chaz will still attend this year’s Ebertfest, a move that only makes sense, as that is what Mr. Ebert would have wanted for his namesake film festival.

In her statement, Chaz also noted that Mr. Ebert fought “a courageous fight.”

And maybe that’s why people are not focusing on his cancer.

Though Mr. Ebert’s jaw surgery changed his appearance and took away his voice, we kept hearing him. His writing, and the quality of it, was not compromised. His courage was noted in that he did not let cancer completely take over his life; he kept on doing what he loved.

And that’s what I’ve seen with cancer patients themselves.

Those with cancer do not want to dwell on the matter. They don’t want to let a disease stop them from living their lives.

As researchers keep searching for the cure for cancer, cancer patients will continue living a double life: one they choose to forget, and another they choose as the dominant one — the one they would normally live. It is this second life that gives hope and spirit to the person with cancer and those who surround him. It is the one that keeps the fight worth it.

Each cancer patient has his own story. But I believe that this unique story is one that makes people stronger.

And that is what will make the 15th annual Ebertfest a celebration and not a time for mourning. 

Seeing Mr. Ebert’s casket on the front page of the Chicago Tribune’s arts and entertainment section yesterday was yet another shock to me. He really is gone.

Yet the continuance of Ebertfest is a continuance of his spirit, a celebration of all that Mr. Ebert stands for and of all that he has done.

For cancer did not let him get down. Mr. Ebert was a fighter, and a very successful one at that.

Kirsten is a sophomore in Media. She can be reached at [email protected]