🌿 A Certificate of Life — Psalm 90:12
“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”
The boy was born with a congenital heart defect, and by the time the social worker met him, his condition had already worsened.
His parents wanted help discussing advance care planning—whether to resuscitate him in an emergency, and whether he wished to stay at home or in the hospital at the end of life.
At first, the boy resisted—hiding behind his father and saying, “I know, the hospital sent you. But I don’t want to talk.”
He already understood that death meant permanent separation and didn’t want to say goodbye to his family.
The social worker slowly built trust through small gestures—exchanging stickers and puzzles via WhatsApp, sending craft materials during lockdown, and spending time with him and his sister online. Her goal was to bring more joy into the family’s daily life.
The boy was often hospitalized, and no one knew which admission would be the last. The social worker stayed close to both the boy and his family, though he never opened up about end-of-life decisions.
They had planned a family photo session in early December, but the fourth wave of the pandemic hit. After assessing the risks, they decided to postpone it. Sadly, the boy passed away mid-month—before they could take the photos.
The social worker felt deep regret—not only for missing the photo but for never having the chance to discuss his final wishes. Her team reminded each other: “Do what you can, while you still can—because you never know if there will be another chance.”
The service also supported the boy’s younger sister, who at first was too frightened to see her brother’s body. With patient guidance, she eventually touched his face and hand—a moment that brought comfort to their parents.
Before the funeral, the social worker helped the sister prepare emotionally. The girl asked many curious questions and eventually decided to create a “Certificate of Life” for her brother, celebrating his courage and love.
At the funeral, though afraid, she chose on her own to carry her brother’s portrait to the hearse. The social worker accompanied her, chatting and playing IQ riddles to keep her calm.
Afterward, the social worker told her, “I admire you—you did something only you could do.”
“Losing a loved one is painful, but even through sorrow we can grow. Every small act of love and courage becomes part of our maturity.”