peace . love . joy

Someone once said that parents should never see their children die. Children are meant to outlive their parents.

I'm not a parent.
I'm not his parent.
Not literally, anyway.

But in a way, I feel like I am.

2 hours ago, he died.

Would've turned 18 in 2 months' time.

I'm the one on the cold, wooden bench with a blank look on my face. I don't know how to feel and I don't know what to do or how to do anything anymore.

I stare at your Facebook profile page,
and glance through your pictures
as I have so often done.

Your profile picture of your younger self looks up,
a cheeky smile just grazing the corners of your lips and lights up your eyes.

A soft-spoken kid, hails not from a shabby background, but still a nice, good boy.

We never sat down together,
have a good long chat over sushi.
We never had one of 'em heated arguments over theology or application.
We never prayed together,
just the two of us.
We never exchanged rapid smses late into the night.

Heck, we never even added each other on msn.

We weren't close.
But strangely, I feel so sad.

Not the a-part-of-me-has-died sad, no.

There's not much to remember.

You were a boy in my Bible Study group.
You were always so quiet.
And we were always having subconscious staring matches.
You very rarely spoke up.

But I know you had fun.
I know you had a group of great friends who love you and watched out for you.
I know one of us, your leaders, cared a great deal for you,
went out of his way to befriend you.

No, we were never close.

But I still feel as though you are my baby.
And I would never wish you ill.

I remember we made a card out of coloured paper for you.
Pink, yellow, blue and green.
With clouds and rainbows on a bright blue sky.
I remember because I prayed over what to write to you, to your parents
while you lay on that hospital bed.

I remember because I was the one who tied all the pages together.
I remember because I was the one who took all the pages home.
I remember because I was the one who read every message that was written to you.

I remember because it caused me distress.

Goodbye for now, my darling boy.

We were never close while we shared time here on Earth,
but I'll see you on the other side.

I'll see you happy, healthy and well again.

Even though I never showed it,
and even though it's too late now,

I love you.

Rest in peace.
But don't rest too long: wake up when Jesus comes a-calling!