I write in memory of a student, Bart (not his real name), who suffered from epilepsy and struggled to speak. He wore a bib because of excessive saliva and needed help with eating and drinking. He was very playful, happy, and joyful.
Every day, he arrived at the center where I work, with the handles of his plastic bag looped around his wrist, filled with biscuits and sweets, alongside his backpack. He would settle into his chair like a king, happily playing with his plastic bag. No one dared to make him stand up because once he did, it marked the start of an eventful day.
During mealtimes, he was always fed after all his classmates had finished eating; otherwise, he would roam around, grabbing and eating their food. I had no problem whenever he sat quietly, but once he stood up and started running around, that marked the start of my busy day running after him. Around three o’clock in the afternoon, an hour before going home, he would become very restless and excited. He would look for bread and never wanted to go home without taking a piece, often getting inside the office to grab something to eat before leaving for home.
He was such an energetic and joyful boy. He often made himself fall to the ground, lie there playing, and then get up to run again. One time, while I was trying to stop him from running, we accidentally fell over. Luckily, I wasn’t injured. There was also a time when I tried to give him water, and he spat at me and threw away the plastic cup I was holding. With mixed feelings, I cried and asked myself why I was dealing with such a person. I even felt that I didn’t want to look after him anymore.
However, he also showed kindness. One day, he saw me standing while feeding one of his classmates, he came over, picked up a chair, and offered it to me. This simple gesture amazed the teachers and his classmates.
Moreover, every time I took him to the toilet for his personal needs, the teachers reminded me to always wear gloves and wash my hands properly.
One day, he saw me standing while feeding one of his classmates, he came over, picked up a chair, and offered it to me. This simple gesture amazed the teachers and his classmates.
I later discovered that he had a skin condition, and sometimes his skin would bleed, with dried blood sticking to his clothes which made me feel very sorry for him. Another moment that deeply touched me was when I saw one of his seizures; he needed a long time to recover and would lie on the floor until he felt better. During those times, our priority was to ensure his safety. He seemed to endure a lot of pain, yet his joyful disposition never changed.
I also observed the deep bond he shared with his mother and how lovingly she cared for him whenever she visited the center. When his mother passed away, he was transferred to another facility, and from then on, I did not hear any news about him until one night, when he visited me in my dreams. He was transformed into a handsome man, well-dressed, and smiling at me. When I asked my colleagues about him, they told me that he had passed away a few months after his mother died. I felt very sad when I heard this news about him. But I believe he is at peace now and free from suffering and pain.
I saw how he grew up and lived joyfully despite his pain and disabilities. He reminded me that true joy and strength often come from the most unexpected people.
Bart was the person who first taught me to explore the meaning of patience and compassion, and the profound influence of living a joyful life. I saw how he grew up and lived joyfully despite his pain and disabilities. He reminded me that true joy and strength often come from the most unexpected people. Despite his struggles with epilepsy, difficulty speaking, and physical limitations, Bart lived each day with pure happiness and a contagious energy that touched everyone around him. His story made me realize that caring for others, especially those with special needs, is not only about patience but also about love and understanding.
There were moments of frustration and exhaustion, but these were replaced by lessons of compassion and gratitude. Bart’s simple acts—like offering a chair to me—show that kindness doesn’t depend on ability but on the heart’s capacity to love. His joy, even amid pain, taught me a deeper meaning of resilience.
My brief journey with Bart left a lasting impression on my heart, a reminder that every person, regardless of their condition, carries beauty and purpose. His memory inspires me to serve with patience, to find joy in small things, and to love beyond limitations. May he now be enjoying eternal joy, peace, and life in paradise with his Creator.
Columban lay missionary Febie Gonzales lives and works in Taiwan.
