Food and Farewell - Stichting Emmy

I once had a friend who knew he would die within a week. No idea how he knew, but he just did! Very special. Somehow he sensed that “this was it.” A premonition, a “higher insight”? I don’t know.

I had no idea he had that feeling, that he knew his time was running out. Looking back, he had actually hinted at it several times, but you quickly think, “He’s crazy, whatever, it’ll be fine,” and I totally ignored it—I just didn’t understand.

What was also strange was that my friend knew his last days on this earth would NOT be good and that the next few days would really be a torment before he died. He knew that—really weird. What must it have been like for him to think he knew this terrible fate was coming and to be powerless to stop it? Very vague all around. And he was actively dealing with it, and I only realized that afterward as well.

It turned out later that he had signed up as an organ donor, so despite all the huge suffering he expected to go through in the coming days, he could, through his death, give other people a new start? Something like that? Really strange all around, but well, I’ve had “strange friends” before. #lol

At some point, I got an invitation from him to go out to eat together with him and a few friends. Hamburgers (always good!), fries (with mayonnaise, after all, we’re Dutch), and a cola. Delicious!

He had reserved a table at a nice restaurant, everything taken care of, well organized, and no “McTrash.”

Great meal, good conversations, and then suddenly he said he would be “leaving” in the coming week and that this would be the last time we’d eat together as a group of friends. Just like that, out of nowhere. He even said, “If you’re biting into a hamburger again, think of me for a moment, I’d like that.” Huh? What? The good mood we had at the start of the meal suddenly shifted into a kind of surprise, silence, questions, questions, questions—maybe “stunned speechless”? But anyway, we finished the meal. In the end, it was still a kind of nice little party (with hamburgers, everything gets better, #lol), and I went back home. Strange guy, but honestly, I only know him as a bit vague and dreamy. Sometimes like a scatterbrained professor.

And now comes the shock. Less than 24 hours later, he was really gone. What? How?!

A car accident, not his fault, something with an oncoming driver who overtook where it really wasn’t allowed, and my friend was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Things happen. They tried to save him for a whole day, but unfortunately, no luck.

The last day must not have been a good day for him (from what I understood from his family), and it was good that he finally passed away. “Then he wouldn’t have any more pain.” That brought peace to the family because they truly didn’t want him to suffer. They also found some comfort in the fact that “his parts” — his legacy, through being a donor — were able to save people.

My friend has now been gone for a while, but sometimes…

Yesterday I was eating again (I know, I really should cut back), a hamburger, once more at a nice “eatery,” and suddenly I thought of my friend from back then. And the joy of that hamburger just disappeared.

Yes, the burger was tasty, yes, he was an AMAZING friend, but I suddenly missed him so much. What an incredible time we once had—and now he was gone. And I also thought about how he must have experienced that last burger, knowing (somehow) what awaited him… wow…

Can you imagine knowing that you will (like in his case) die in a terrible way tomorrow? I would really go crazy. And yes, the idea that I’ll be dead tomorrow might be a bit easier to bear knowing that my “parts” could save someone else, but just the thought alone—yikes! How did he even manage emotionally to still invite us out for burgers? We all found it funny and cozy, but how must he have felt????!!! Just thinking about it makes me lose my appetite.

So yes, when I eat a burger, I think of him, but the feeling that comes with it is very, very, very mixed. Good friend, donor, great times, but he’s gone. Dead, he knew it(?!), a horrible(!) accident, that last day must have really(!) been awful… and I can’t eat a burger anymore thinking about it… let alone with a smile.

Okay, the story above is completely “made up,” but this story is not:

Matthew 26:20-29 When evening came, He reclined at the table with the twelve disciples. While they were eating, Jesus took some bread, and after blessing it, He broke it and gave it to the disciples, saying, “Take, eat; this is My body.” Then He took the cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. For this is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom.”

And I’m afraid Jesus’ friends didn’t really understand much of it either…

Matthew 26:30 When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.

What a difficult meal that must have been for Jesus! Hymns of thanksgiving?! I don’t think His friends had any idea what was about to happen. One of His “friends” (Judas, Matthew 26:21-25) clearly didn’t understand it at all (it’s also in that chapter, but I’ll talk about that in another blog sometime), Peter (Matthew 26:33-35) didn’t get it either, Thomas himself didn’t understand what was going on even after Jesus’ death (John 20:24-29), and hymns of thanksgiving after you’ve just been told your best friend will die a horrible death within a day? How?! And what must that have felt like for Jesus? He knew VERY well the immense suffering that awaited Him—immense suffering, a HORRIBLE death… and His friends didn’t understand any of it?? What?

A couple of months ago, there was communion at a church we visited briefly. And the “hamburger” (bread and wine) was eaten with much joy, smiling faces, and dancing people.

Do we even realize how terrible and emotionally complicated that meal must have been for Christ Himself? Unlike Judas, Peter, Thomas, and the rest of Jesus’ friends and disciples, we do know what came after that last meal:

Jesus was deeply sorrowful and spiritually anguished before His arrest (Matthew 26:38-39).
He was overwhelmed with fear of death (Luke 22:44).
Jesus was arrested, bound, and beaten (Matthew 26:67-68 / Mark 14:65).
The Romans scourged Jesus with a whip made of leather straps often embedded with pieces of metal or bone (John 19:1).
Jesus had to carry His own cross, despite His weakened condition (John 19:17).
Jesus was nailed to the cross through His hands and feet (John 20:25).
After they crucified Him, they divided His clothes among themselves (Matthew 27:35).
He was mocked by passersby, the priests, and even the criminals beside Him (Matthew 27:39-43 / Luke 23:39)
and so on and so forth…
Jesus experienced total abandonment—by His friends, by the people, and even by God Himself (Matthew 27:46).

He (Jesus) knew 100 percent what was coming… and what about us? What do we actually commemorate? The whole picture or just a part of it? Do we truly grasp how that meal must have been for Him? Or do we ignore that horrible suffering and just turn it into a celebration? Is that really balanced? Without Christ’s suffering, without His sacrifice, without His brutal death, there is no celebration. And for that celebration, a terrible price was paid by Him, for you.

Something to think about a little more deeply next time before we start celebrating?