Through this series so far, we have looked at the child-like perspective on many areas in life — from war to having fun with family and everything in between — all through my memories of my youth. This is one significant part of life, however, that children are not supposed to have to look at, from any perspective. Nonetheless, when my best friend in middle school was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I was forced to look death in the eye.

My friend knew he would not live long. I knew he needed friends more than any other time in his life, and when he was hospitalized in Brugge, just a short train ride from my home town of Oostende, I tried to visit him often. Because I was still young, and because my mother didn’t drive, we would board the train every Wednesday afternoon for Brugge.

Those hospital visits were perhaps the hardest thing I had ever done up until that point in my life. I truly had no idea what to say to him. I didn’t feel comfortable talking about school or my homework. He knew he would never be returning there, would never have to do homework again. I didn’t want to talk about mutual friends, for it only drove home the fact that I was the only friend who came to visit him. I didn’t want to talk about the latest sports teams, because I didn’t know anything about sports. I didn’t want to talk about ice cream or pastries or street fairs or the market or the beach, or any other thing he and I might have otherwise enjoyed, because it would only remind him of the good times that would never again be his. I am sure that those hospital visits must have been very awkward, because in my mind, I needed to fill the silence with conversation and I didn’t know how. Nonetheless, my friend was always so happy to see me. He didn’t seem uncomfortable at all with my silence. In fact he seemed content to just sit in silence or to watch TV together. In retrospect, think he was just happy to know that someone cared enough to come and visit him. Words were completely unimportant. I wish I had realized this sooner, because those awkward hospital visits would have been a lot less uncomfortable for me; and if I had felt more comfortable, he might have had more joy in my visits a well!

When I got the word one day that my friend had died, I was so sad. I didn’t know how to deal with my feelings, and I was embarrassed with the tears that wanted to run down my face. I didn’t feel like I had anyone to talk to about my feelings. Oh, I know my mom would have been very happy to talk with me; but I was so afraid of being laughed at that I just kept it all inside. I tried to put on a brave face and continue through my life. My only consolation was that my friend would be in Heaven, that I would see him again some day.
Through this series so far, we have looked at the child-like perspective on many areas in life — from war to having fun with family and everything in between — all through my memories of my youth. This is one significant part of life, however, that children are not supposed to have to look at, from any perspective. Nonetheless, when my best friend in middle school was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I was forced to look death in the eye.

My friend knew he would not live long. I knew he needed friends more than any other time in his life, and when he was hospitalized in Brugge, just a short train ride from my home town of Oostende, I tried to visit him often. Because I was still young, and because my mother didn’t drive, we would board the train every Wednesday afternoon for Brugge.

Those hospital visits were perhaps the hardest thing I had ever done up until that point in my life. I truly had no idea what to say to him. I didn’t feel comfortable talking about school or my homework. He knew he would never be returning there, would never have to do homework again. I didn’t want to talk about mutual friends, for it only drove home the fact that I was the only friend who came to visit him. I didn’t want to talk about the latest sports teams, because I didn’t know anything about sports. I didn’t want to talk about ice cream or pastries or street fairs or the market or the beach, or any other thing he and I might have otherwise enjoyed, because it would only remind him of the good times that would never again be his. I am sure that those hospital visits must have been very awkward, because in my mind, I needed to fill the silence with conversation and I didn’t know how. Nonetheless, my friend was always so happy to see me. He didn’t seem uncomfortable at all with my silence. In fact he seemed content to just sit in silence or to watch TV together. In retrospect, I think he was just happy to know that someone cared enough to come and visit him. Words were completely unimportant. I wish I had realized this sooner, because those awkward hospital visits would have been a lot less uncomfortable for me; and if I had felt more comfortable, he might have found more joy in my visits a well!

When I got the word one day that my friend had died, I was so sad. I didn’t know how to deal with my feelings, and I was embarrassed with the tears that wanted to run down my face. I didn’t feel like I had anyone to talk to about my feelings. Oh, I know my mom would have been very happy to talk with me; but I was so afraid of being laughed at that I just kept it all inside. I tried to put on a brave face and continue through my life. My only consolation was that my friend would be in Heaven, that I would see him again some day.

I wish I could say that dealing with death got easier after this; but it didn’t. How blessed I was when my father passed away to have my wife at my side. She didn’t say much, but just her presence was comforting. Nonetheless, those were hard days.

I now know as an adult what my heart felt as a child: Death was never supposed to be part of the plan. We weren’t created to die, we were created to live! That’s why there was the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden. And although sin has sealed our fate and death is something we do have to face in life, Jesus made a way so that we wouldn’t have to face eternal death: “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die.” (John 11:25-26 NIV). In other words, even though our earthly bodies may pass away, someone who believes in Jesus Christ and has accepted Him into their lives as their Lord and Saviour will — never die! Will pass from this life until the next! Isn’t that what Jesus means when He says, “The one who believes in me will live, even though they die…”?

And that is the good news I hold on to, even today. We weren’t meant to die, and if we know Jesus as our Saviour, even though our Earthly bodies pass away, we will live on with Him for eternity! Halleluiah!

In His love,
Rob Chaffart


(To access the entire “Through the Eyes of a Child” devotional series, please click here)