No one can tell another person what the meaning of life and suffering is. Each of us must find that answer on our own and take responsibility for it. To answer the question asked by Viktor Frankl: “What gives my life meaning?”. In Rwanda or Congo, few have read his bestselling book, yet somehow, every one of our patients seems to understand his words instinctively.

Today, on World Day of the Sick, we reflect deeply on suffering and how vital it is to be able to experience illness with dignity.

Emmanuel, a boy from Congo, found his sense of meaning again in our Rwandan hospice. He used to cry often, his body wracked with pain from cancer. Chemotherapy had failed against the relentless disease that had erased his dreams and future. His father, desperate and powerless, ran across town with a prescription, searching for a pharmacy that might have just one dose of morphine. A single pain-free day—that was all he could give his son. Even that turned out to be a struggle.

Pain steals the future. It makes the present unbearable.

The moment Sister Maria heard about Emmanuel, she acted immediately. Even though the hospice was full, she found him a room.Don’t let the word hospice mislead you—this is a place where life is lived to the very end.

We can’t tell you the meaning of Emmanuel’s suffering, but we can tell you the meaning of his life in his final days.

With his first dose of pain relief meds came hunger—and a smile. He was astonished to learn that all he had to do was ask, and within five minutes, a nurse would bring him scrambled eggs, fruit, and a glass of milk. An unimaginable luxury for a child from Congo.

He ate his meals on the terrace, gazing at the rolling hills. When he felt strong enough, he joined the boys outside for a game of football, then watched TV—something he hadn’t done in almost a year.

For most of us, these are ordinary moments. For a dying child, they are everything.

The hospice gave him the joy of feeling the sun on his face, of forming new friendships, of being with his loved ones in peace. Of scoring one last goal on the field. As he left this world, his final words to his father were: “I see a new world, a new world!”.

Thank you for giving him a dignified journey. You saw a child in need, not just a statistic. If you can, please help us support more patients as they strive to live fully until the very end.