“When a child is dying, you die with him. You can’t stand by without feeling anything,” says Sister Agnieszka, who has been caring for Barata for over three years. “I first saw him in February 2022, on World Sick Children’s Day. He was barely breathing, so swollen from heart failure.”

Barata’s mother sits by his bedside, crying. She watches her child fade and can’t do anything. The clinic in France sent the results of the cardiology consultation. Brief, like a verdict: too late for surgery. His heart is so damaged that any procedure would mean death on the operating table. All that remains is waiting—and morphine.

The nurses tease medical students when they boast about fitting a patient with an oxygen mask. “There’s nothing to brag about—even Barata can do it himself,” they joke. Because Barata, though only five, knows more about dying than most adults. When other children cry and pull out their tubes, he puts them on himself. He knows he needs oxygen to spend a little more time with his mother.

We accompany them where medicine has already done all it can. All that’s left is one human being with another.

On Friend’s Day, we don’t write about easy friendships. We write about those that require courage—being there not because someone can do something for us, but because they no longer can. Sister Agnieszka asks the dying child: “What do you dream of?”

A portion of popcorn when the pain eases. A ride in a wheelchair to see the world outside the hospital room one last time. A colorful toy car all to himself. His favorite juice, once he finds the strength to drink it. For a healthy child, these are everyday things. For a dying child—they are the last great dreams.

You can make those dreams come true. By funding a Last Wish, you give a dying child the feeling that someone cares—and that even on this hardest, final journey, a little piece of happiness is waiting for them.