text: It was late, I was chilling with my laptop in front of me and a cup of warm fruit tea in my hand. I was browsing through YouTube, looking for meaningless forms of entertainment, it was fun at least. I had clicked on a video, ‘*Planting 20 million trees around the world’*, it had started playing. "What a wonderful thing to do!” I thought. As the video reached the climax, my phone buzzed. It was on the coffee table in front of me, but I was already in a comfortable position. “It’s probably just a notification from one of my games.” I thought, “no one messages me anyway.” I decided to look at whatever notification it was after I had finished watching the video. After another 15 minutes, the video ended. At that time, I had already forgotten about the notification on my phone and clicked on another video. As I did, my phone buzzed again. I grudgingly paused the video and stretched my arm out to grab my phone. As I unlocked it, I noticed the notifications were actually messages from my best friend. I opened WhatsApp and read the messages. ‘I can’t believe it bro.’ The next message was a picture, in it was a medical report. I looked at the diagnosis. Stage 4 brain cancer. I was bewildered, I asked if he was serious and if he was joking. He was not, he was already in a hospice. I stood up, forgetting that my laptop was still on my lap, let's just say I had to buy a new laptop. But my friend was more important, I paced my room, still not believing the news. Suddenly, a ringtone. It was him, calling me. I obviously picked up. “Dude, what’s going on? Are you alright? I mean, I guess you’re not. But are you alright?” I was practically shooting questions at him, worried out of my mind. “One at a time, it’s making me lose brain cells,” he replied. “Ok, I'm sorry, what’s happening?” He started talking. Apparently, he was going for a routine medical check-up when his doctor noticed that he had weakened considerably and even fainted in the medical clinic. When he came to, he was in the hospital with an IV drip stuck in his arm. They had done some MRI scans while he was unconscious and discovered the brain tumor. It was cancerous and had already reached the final stage, there was nothing the doctors could do but help him feel comfortable. “It’s rare for people your age to develop stage 4 brain cancer, especially since you don’t have any medical conditions,” he recalls his doctor telling him. His parents broke down right there in the doctor’s office when they received the news. I took a deep breath; I could not imagine life without him. The government had footed his medical bill, so his parents could have ease of mind, but I doubt they would have peace for a while. I’m only 16, I couldn’t do much, so I visited him every day. On days where I could not visit, I would still video call him to check up on him and keep him company. About 3 weeks later, I made my usual visit, went up to his room and greeted him. We talked for a bit, we talked about life. The meaning of life, the afterlife and why we have consciousness. It was getting late; I was getting ready to leave. The doctor had predicted that he had less than a month left, I wanted to spend as much time as I could with him. I thought of asking the doctor if he could leave the hospice, but then I remembered his compromised immune system, even the common flu could kill him at this point. As I reached out for the door handle, I heard him coughing. I turned around just in time to see his EKG begin dropping rapidly. Six doctors and nurses immediately rushed into the room, pushing me aside. I started tearing up, I thought that this would be the end. Then, I heard it. The ominous alert the monitor makes when a person's heart rate has flatlined. The medical team didn’t bother resuscitating him, the cancer had already beaten him. Nothing could be done. I sobbed quietly, knowing that I could never see his face again. I recalled all the joyous moments we had together. The first time we met, the first time we bonded, the first time we went out together and finally the time I received the news. One of the nurses put his hand on my shoulder and comforted me, leading me to the chair outside his room. Hurried footsteps echoed down the hall; his parents. They collapsed in front of his bed, weeping uncontrollably. The nurses all cleared the room, giving them and the doctor some space. I head back inside. The doctor explains everything, how the morgue would handle the body and how the funeral company would help them in gaining closure. Then, something unexpected happened, after the doctor left the room, his parents hugged me thanking me. It turns out, before he had passed, he had told his parents all about me and how my visits and calls have been helping him cope with his illness. I broke down into even more tears, I knew that my visits and calls have been helping him but I did not know it helped him that much. I now know the meaning of life, or at least my rendition. Life has no meaning on its own, being there for someone during their toughest times and sticking with the people you hold dear. That’s what gives life meaning, we exist so that we can be with others who exist and vice versa. We exist as to support those around us, to be someone’s close friend. Because without a friend, you might be alive, but you are not living. As the famous quote goes: ‘A good friend is a connection to life - a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world.’- Lois Wyse.