I attended the funeral service of the youngest person I've ever known.
Sammy was seven and a half hours old when he breathed his last.
When Faith told me to write a note of condolence for Joe and Hui Ching, I wrote nothing. There were no words for times like these. Along with their daughter Jodie, they waited many years for another child, and chose for him the name Samuel, after the biblical character born to his mother Hannah after her many years of prayer.
There was a short slideshow of Ching's pregnancy, the ultrasounds, and Sammy's birth. Halfway through the pregnancy, Joe and Ching were told that Sammy would not survive due to a medical condition. I was so very touched at how Joe and Ching spoke of thanksgiving, even through the pain of such recent loss. How they were thankful to have held and known their child, even for those few precious hours.
"God did not create Sammy only for those seven and a half hours", said Joe. "He made Sammy for eternity." A thousand times amen, I whisper in my heart.
There actually is one word apt for times like these, when the pain is deepest and at its most suffocating.
Maranatha. Oh Lord come.

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