life's young warriors

Seeing some future of the nation in sickness is disheartening. They are supposed to be moving about actively, playing tag or having fun battling it out in online games. They are supposed to churn out laughter or plaster permanent smiles on their faces. They are supposed to vibrate with life, reflect life’s cheery side, and affect adults into nurturing the kids in everyone. However, they could not do so fully because they suffer in life this early.
Suffering is just too difficult to put up with. More so if the ones suffering are too young for it. Suffering is already a hard thing for adults to endure; how much more for children who have only a few experiences which are not even worth remembering for their inherent difficulty? So young lives yet so wrought in anguish. These kids are so beautiful, so tender but have gone on so early in meeting life’s unfairness and irony. From whom or what should justice be demanded for these sensitive souls?
Life for kids should be about happiness. After all, later in life they will be meeting all sorts of disappointments and no amount of delaying should keep them from experiencing this ugly stripe of life. Nevertheless, for life to rear its monsters at the onset is a double agony for children who should feel robbed of their share of enjoyment. If this suffering aggravates, these kids might end up missing life’s positive point. They may be free to dream and to hope, but their illness turns their dreams and hopes into nightmares and disillusionments. No one, especially these kids, deserve to be given agony despite their fullness of innocence.
Life seems so bad for these ill kids. I had been a kid myself but I did not suffer in life that early. I encountered pain at a later time as more mature concerns turn plays and toys and games outmoded for my age. I got hurt, but then I was old enough to face them or was too scared to face them. For these kids, the sheer torture of having to go through the sick condition left them with no choice but to undergo the experience. They can cry but they cannot become too cowardly to escape them. They can complain but they cannot whine loud enough to silence the overwhelming sound of pain deadening their bodies. They are, heart-wrenching to admit, more unlucky than many of us. Or are they?
When I come to think about it, early as these youngsters are in experiencing life’s agony due to their sickness, they are early too in realizing that life indeed is a struggle. They may be unlucky to have been chosen by destiny to anguish at a young age, but that in a way prepares them for the smaller or larger problems crawling along their way. They become ironically stronger as their bodies become weaker. They become more tolerable about pain in general since they get accustomed to it. Notwithstanding the hurt, they endure in life. It is a question whether or not they will be strong enough to survive, but the sheer courage of going on is an act too admirable to let pass unnoticed.
The brave souls that these children are inspire me never to feel disheartened. During interludes of pain in the form of their smiles, they seem to exude life instead of sickness. They teach me the lesson that no matter how unfair life is, it can have meaning for those who struggle to find so. These children have found just that, and I hope to follow suit.