This afternoon, I stood beside my friends as they buried their stillborn child. Their son had only lived 24 weeks in the womb and hadn't survived to see the light of day.
After a brief but touching service, they lowered the tiny casket into the ground. For the most part of the funeral, it had been grey and overcast. The wind would come every so often, reminding us it was still winter. As we said our final goodbyes to this precious baby we'd never met, the skies opened and the raindrops began to fall. In literature, they call this pathetic fallacy - when the weather reflects the events that are happening. Today, I would say it God was weeping with us.
