Yesterday we received the kind of news no one ever wants to hear. The kind you know will come one day—but it always comes too soon. Marcel has passed away. He was 87 years old. One of the oldest patients at our hospice in Kabuga, Rwanda.

Marcel had been with us for four years. Other patients came and went, but he was always there. For a long time now, we didn’t see him as a patient—but as part of the family. We would most often find him in the chapel or out in the hospice courtyard, where he loved to chat with other patients—usually cracking jokes and making people laugh. But he truly lit up whenever his wife walked through the hospice doors. His smile would shine so brightly, it was hard to believe the pain he had lived through. During the Rwandan genocide, Marcel lost all five of his children. Only he and his wife survived. He had been battling cancer for several years. Drifting from hospital to hospital, he eventually found his way to us.

There was no sign that anything was wrong. Last night, as usual, Marcel went to the chapel for his evening prayers. Afterward, he joined the others for dinner. When he returned to his room, he began to feel unwell and called for a nurse. But before she could reach him, Marcel had already gone… to join his children.
Today during Mass in the chapel, Marcel’s Bible and liturgical calendar lay exactly where he had left them the night before. No one wanted to move them—leaving his things in that same spot was part of his daily ritual.

Dear Marcel, today the whole Good Factory family—and everyone who supported you—wishes you a Good Journey. Kabuga will never be the same without you. Our hearts are heavy, but we are filled with gratitude and joy that you were with us. We truly believe you have left to live—and this time, to live forever. So we’re not saying goodbye. We’re saying…

See you again, dear Friend.