Yesterday it poured with rain. Buckets in fact. Which suited the mood. It was a very sombre and biting day because of the afternoon that loomed. To celebrate the life of a child, who had not learned how painful parting could be, no matter how grown up we become. He knew adult suffering, but as adults soothed him and guided him he never let on how much he was struggling with his illness. He dealt with his circumstances with an extraordinary sense of knowing. He was enfolded in a family's love, and the love of his Jesus who became the shining star, his guide and his reason for being alive, and finally taken to rest. He wanted to leave with a message that Jesus is alive. Even the hardest heart could see the benefits of a belief that could take one to the other side and still leave those left behind feeling a sense of peace and awe that a young child could be so reassuring to those who were left behind that he had gained through his passing.

We sat in a Church hall that filled to capacity and stared into a corner of the wall. Empty and desolate but still reassuring with flowers and symbols, and spiritual songs telling us that where we are in our lives. Everything had been prepared and carefully orchestrated, in the correct manner that these events demand. My heart was already gutted at seeing his large school bus parked outside and his schoolmates in uniform and wearing yellow sashes. We were there to remember him and to comfort his family. In a heartwarming way it was the family who comforted us. His brave and dedicated mother had remarked to their pastor who was present at his passing that he had now become everyone's child.

I am aware of how he will now become ageless. I experienced a loss of a young boy who was a cub of mine years ago. When I commiserated with his mother afterwards, she spoke of his sense of knowing, his calmness in the week that preceded his accidental death. She felt he was prepared. I was so fond of him and being young myself I mourned his passing for many years. Every child I saw the same age gave me a pang that he was no longer alive. That is the sad part about a premature death. All the contemporaries move on and grow up. Those who were close to the child never see him growing up and he does indeed remain a child forever.

As I sat there and watched the photos on a screen behind the podium flicker through his life and listened to the soothing words of the pastor about the meaning of life and death, I gradually found meaning in the large group of congregation, close family and friends from all parts of his life that had gathered together. We collectively made the entire event sweep into a bonding moment where we all understood why we had to say goodbye, and move forward with no regrets. There was a power that crept into my sadness and I felt so thankful that caring people could take time out of their busy lives and come together to really comfort each other. I left wanting more...

Of course now that I look deeply into the eyes of this child who quietly slipped away, I see his picture radiates a confidence that he had a message that we should not forget. Childish innocence is the least fragile of all and we have a duty to ensure that we cherish the wisdom and clarity that is frequently expressed and sometimes can take our breath away, as in the expression "out of the mouths of babes". Listen to what they are saying, for their words may be the truth we are always looking for once we grow into maturity.

Innocent love may disappear and be replaced with a different kind of love, but the child in all of us still knows where we come from. And with the strength I witnessed in a bereaved family who made the celebration of their precious child's life so special, I knew that he expected and received nothing less. Love one another with all your heart, that is all that is expected of us.

Take good care of yourselves, Love from Eve