Healing rain

It’s raining today.

That about sums up my mood, too. I love the rain, always. But today as it rains, I feel melancholy. It has nothing to do with the clouds and precipitation. As I said, I love the rain always. But to most people, it spells gloominess, depression, greyness.

My little friend Samuel died.

If you’re new to my blog, you won’t remember Samuel. I first met him in the summer of 2006 while working in paediatrics. He was an HIV+ little boy on anti-retroviral treatment. He was small and cuddly and full of smiles. I adored him, I’ll admit. He was just too cute for words, and he seemed to enjoy the attention I gave him, even though he never really talked—not even when I saw him several months later.

He was doing so well, I thought, and now he’s gone. I don’t know what happened. I’m surprised I found out at all, actually. I ran into someone in the hospital yesterday (when I went to weigh Timothy) who knew him and told me of his death.

HIV and AIDS have been in Nigeria for several years now, and I’ve seen patients die. But this is the first little guy I knew and held and loved who succumbed to the nightmare. My heart aches for Samuel’s loss. If I could write his epitaph, it would read,

“Here lie the remains of a little boy
Who was full of life, full of love, full of joy.”

You will always hold a special place in my heart, Samuel. Rest in peace, in the sweet arms of Jesus.