Edward Yang, best director winner at the 2000 Cannes Film Festival, died Friday at his Beverly Hills home from complications of colon cancer. He had been battling the disease for seven years but kept his condition private. He was 59.

Yang, an American citizen born in Shanghai, first made a career for himself as a computer engineer. On his 30th birthday, he decided to change directions. He became a filmmaker.

Known for his realistic movie portrayals of modern Taiwan, Yang favored stories set in the Taiwanese capital, Taipei. He is responsible for the 1991 film A Brighter Summer Day. First-time actor Chang Chen worked on this film and then went on to star in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, the Ang Lee kung fu hit.

I like to read. I just don't find much time to do it -- with two kids, two jobs, an unpredictable exercise schedule, endless medical appointments, and all the other craziness that accompanies life. I would like to find more time for books -- books a bit more complex than the one I found time to read at bedtime tonight about a frog and a toad who spend their days flying kites and enjoying picnics together. I would like to read books that capture relationships and life experiences and a bit of mystery too.

The last book I read -- The Shop on Blossom Street -- is the kind of book I like. It is easy to read and captivating and inspiring and comforting. It is the kind of book I want to keep reading -- long after I have to put it down to tend to distractions. Perhaps it's the thread of cancer woven into the storyline of this book that kept me wanting more.

The Shop on Blossom Street -- by Debbie Macomber -- follows four women who are all seeking change in their lives. The lead character opens a yarn shop, years after a cancer diagnosis and with the intention of moving forward despite an uncertain future. She hosts knitting classes and forms relationships with three other women in search of brighter days.

Character Lydia Hoffman -- the cancer survivor -- overcomes obstacles and challenges and even another cancer scare. She finds friendship and love and all sorts of unexpected discoveries. She even graces the pages of a second book -- A Good Yarn -- that follows her continued life journeys.

I have the book A Good Yarn. It's on my bookshelf. And I can't wait to read it. I just can't find the time.

Kids can be so positive and encouraging, even in the face of sickness. Now today my kids have just a simple sickness -- nothing life-threatening -- that I'm sure will pass in a day or so. They are throwing up every content of their little tummies -- even sips of water -- and they are pale and lethargic and run-down. But still, they have hope for a brighter tomorrow. This morning, five-year-old Joey said to me while resting in my bed and just after he threw up , "this is just the good getting rid of the bad." He went on to explain how the good in our bodies knows when to push the bad out. And this is what is happening to him today, he said. He is throwing up the bad so the good can take over. Simple. Easy. Makes sense.

I never saw my own sickness like this. Instead of visualizing chemotherapy as a good agent that kills bad cells, I was repulsed by the horrific liquids that poisoned my body. I knew of people who were able to turn chemotherapy into a Pac-Man game -- with Pac Man chomping away at the cancer cells and leaving nothing but healthy cells to thrive. And I knew people who were relieved to feel sick because it meant the chemotherapy was working. I never saw it like this -- although I do know that chemotherapy may have saved me from a life with cancer. I was discouraged by chemotherapy. I had a negative attitude about it, and I had to really gear up for all of my infusions. I still -- more than one year later -- cannot eat anything I ate on my chemo days. The mere thought of these foods makes me feel ill.

A pediatrician friend of mine told me that kids with cancer tend to be positive. There are a few old souls, she said, but for the most part, they continue to tackle life with spirit and adventure and simplicity. Like my boys today who are peacefully napping at the moment so everything good in their bodies can come back with a vengeance.

It's hard to describe the feelings that overwhelmed me during my bad days with cancer. I could call them consuming and crushing and sickening and frightening and crippling and still not completely cover all the bases. It's much easier to describe the feelings that overwhelmed me on my good days with cancer. I felt -- and still mostly feel this way -- happy and spunky and motivated and invigorated and fulfilled. And I felt loved -- because most of my bad days were turned around by the love of others. It was like clockwork. When I needed it most, a surprise awaited me in my mailbox or my inbox or on on the other side of my front door or on my front porch. These surprises strengthened me on my bad days -- and sometimes beyond the bad days. They still help me really -- because my memory of how they saved me from days of despair continues to fuel my good days. And here are seven of my special surprises.

Dori died this past November after a long battle with breast cancer that recurred and spread and ultimately took her from her husband and two young children. I never knew Dori -- she was one of my blog acquaintances -- but I gather from her words and the hundreds of comments that were left on her site that she was full of spirit and courage and grace.

Dori died gracefully at her home, with the assistance of hospice and a loving network of family and friends. She is no longer able to write in her blog -- No Bra Required -- and I miss her abundant strength and humor in the midst of a exhausting journey. But something happened that I think has eased the transition for those who are struggling with the death of a woman much too young to have left this world -- Dori's husband continued to write. He continued Dori's blog for a bit and then started his own personal blog where he shares the peaks and valleys of a life without Dori and with two kids he is raising on his own. Winter to Spring is insightful and touching and sad and happy. It chronicles birthday parties and school plays and Mother's Day too. It reveals feelings and hopes and wishes and sorrows. The tragedy of it all -- the death of Dori -- is devastating. The upside of the tragedy -- the resilience of a family, the lessons learned, the hope for a brighter tomorrow -- keeps me coming back for more. For more of a story that can break my heart and warm my heart all at the same time.