My friend is dying

Slowly dying..

Wasting away, as the days go by. Everyday is a new experience, and a hope that he will recover. The cell group has watched him, grown up with him, and he is one of us. I saw him since I was young child in Sunday school, to a friend who likes writing and blogging as much as I do. A quiet boy, he would not say much in class, but then he displayed a strength that none of us could even dare to say we have.

When he told us that he was stricken with cancer, the whole class plunged into a silence. A silence so deep that no one could get out of it. I couldn’t comprehend, and I was blown off balance. All this while cancer was something I read in books, or heard from other circles, but this time, it hit home.

The cancer of grief rolls in, as we helplessly look upon this friend suffer. Unable to do anything, praying and pleading everyday, for his recovery. Every time we visit, there is a deep sorrow and pain that we are unable to answer for. The answer is why. Why did God allow Him to suffer in this way. Why rob a boy so rich and full of yearning and longing for life? Why rob the family of a joy they had? A gentle soul, fighting the violent clutches of cancer.

We watched him go downhill from Day 1… From the chemotherapy to the sickly pallor he had. To the time he lost his hair and had to wear a cap. Then to the time where he went for surgeries, multiple ones, to his head. He rested at home, and went to school, falling in and out of the system regularly due to his unpredictable toil.

He still tried to live a normal life. To cut down his diet to simple food, and he tried his best to attend church and Bible class with us, with the aid of relatives and classmates. For a while, we thought he was improving, till it worsened. It worsened so much. He stopped being able to come to church. He fell down at home. He went for more surgeries. Nothing improved. Chemotherapy doesn’t work on him anymore.

We started visiting him, and we would play him songs. We’d bring worship to his home, and we would sing together. His mother and father would be at the side, smiling but sometimes, their eyes will fill with tears. He would smile and listen to us as we play, talk and sing.

Now he is bed ridden, and he is losing weight. His once healthy pink skin is reduced sickly pallor– nothing but skin and bones. He doesn’t recognise us anymore, and he cannot speak. He has lost the ability to interact.

Yet, today… I saw again a glimpse of hope. A hope that the church has his and his family’s back, and there are so many interceding and praying for him. The whole church gathered a party to celebrate his birthday. Our cell group gathered yesterday night to string balloons and prepare banners and photographs ranging from the years he had with his family, schoolmates and church mates. There were cards for dedications, and pretty paper designs held up at the Dedication Table. The worship band came down to hold a service for him today, and 130 guests came. People from all walks of life came to celebrate life for my friend, and there were photos, cards, pictures… Written words of love and prayer. The pastors and Elders all came to pray for him, praying for strength and healing. The sight was so beautiful.

Happy birthday my friend…

Would God heal him? I pray, for mercy. And I pray, for strength.

And there is hope, and so much  beauty, amidst all things.


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