Hannah Kunkel lived knowing full well that her life could be cut short at any moment.

At age 5, she was diagnosed with a rare, ruthless type of brain cancer that killed every child who ever got it.

Doctors at Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh told her parents that Hannah would die within six months.

Not Hannah.

She lived 29 glorious years, proving that sometimes the best doctors at the best hospitals in the world aren’t always right.

Hannah died last week at her mother’s house, capping a life in which she not only defied the odds but also taught those around her to live life with courage and without fear.

“She is finally at peace,” her mom, Barb Kauffeld of Avalon, texted me.

Hannah Kunkel and her family were featured prominently in the pages of this newspaper over the past two decades.

The Trib chronicled everything from her first day in kindergarten in the fall of 2000 to her surgeries and radiation treatments at the old Children’s Hospital in Oakland. We even traveled with the family to Disney World in Florida, where Hannah fulfilled a wish granted by Make-A-Wish of Western Pennsylvania.

Our goal was to show readers how parents with a terminally ill child navigate the health care system and cope with the inevitable. Sharing their ordeal, Hannah’s parents reasoned, would help others under similar circumstances.

No one can explain it, but the tumor that threatened to kill Hannah suddenly disappeared. Doctors at Children’s were baffled, and her oncologist remarkably declared that the power of prayer was probably the only reason Hannah was still alive.

Hannah went to Community College of Allegheny County and studied child development. She held jobs in child care and as a barista. She had her own apartment for years, dated and lived an independent, happy life.

“She accomplished so much in her short life,” Barb told me.

In 2010, doctors found another tumor, this time a glioma on the opposite side of Hannah’s childhood tumor. It grew ever so slowly, but it eventually caught up with her.

Last August, an MRI revealed the tumor was growing at incredible speed. Within weeks, she went from being an independent woman to bedridden and unable to care for herself.

All along, her mom and sisters, Katie and Collyn, saturated her with love. They spent hours together at the hospital and later at Barb’s home, where Hannah was in hospice care.

“She was a fighter to the end,” Barb said.

I went to see Hannah a few weeks ago at UPMC Shadyside. It was tough to see her in a hospital bed, eyes barely open, unable to communicate. I watched her sisters hold her hand and talk to her softly, knowing the end was near. The room was filled with their love.

We reminisced and found humor in the midst of all the sadness because, in many ways, we had been preparing for this moment for a very long time.

Two days after Hannah passed away, Barb and I talked on the phone about Hannah’s short but incredible journey.

“Life is so short,” she told me. “She taught me so much about strength.”

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