Sad farewell in Santo

Death is part of life and the most certain one. Everyone leaves this life - or the body - at some point... nonetheless, it surprises us, it hurts us and shocks us when death comes and takes a beloved one away. You knew this moment would come, but somehow you just wish it came later. Marevie was only two years and nine months old when she passed away last Saturday afternoon. Yet she touched the hearts of many - people near her, and people who learned about her in the media. From all over the world we received letters during the last days, of her friends expressing sympathy and condolence. With high appreciation we receive and share this tender form of support that shows us how deep the impact of Marevie's nature was even in those who never got to know her personally.

Months have gone by since I last wrote about „our little star“. It was her birthday in February, when things still seemed to be improving. But Marevie hardly gained any weight, even losing weight during health crises. Various doctors were consulted and during the last months she was in and out of hospital. A very rare congenital heart- and lung-defect was diagnosed, the needed specialists and conditions for treatment were not available in Haiti. Experts and supporters in foreign countries were involved and desperately searching for a medical solution that would enable her to live longer and better.

After difficult weeks, we finally reached a moment of hope at the end of last week. Marevie was seemingly stable and we had an offer from a hospital in Mexico that was able to conduct the necessary treatment. We were waiting for her to get back from the Dominican Republic, where she had just finished some exams... but she took another decision. Marevie left this life.

"One angel more up there", said a colleague expressing his sympathy. And indeed, Marevie is an angel, she was one on this side and she will be one on the other side. She used to keep her eyes wide open, observing the world around her. Sometimes this world made her laugh, sometimes it made her cry. And often, she just seemed to be above it all. With a slight smile, or a critical expression on the face she just watched situations - without any comment. Another colleague said: "I'm sure she would have become a great philosopher." Marevie's special appearance was noted by almost everyone who got to know her.

But neither her silent observations nor her unstable state of health hindered her from being a joyful child. She loved to dance, and did, wherever she found space and whenever she was in the mood. She also loved to play with her SOS brothers and sisters, especially one same-aged girl who became her best friend and sister in the SOS Children's Village.

Once, I was waiting at the doctor's office with her and the nurse from the SOS Children's Village. Hours passed by and we had to wait all day long. Like every little child, Marevie wanted to be entertained. She browsed magazines, played with a small toy, observed other patients, ate some snacks, went to the toilet, proved her drawing skills in my note book and cried when she found out that there was nothing left to do. I knew she liked seeing her own image and took her picture on my digital camera to show it to her. Looking at the camera display she whispered in her soft voice: "That's me. I'm beautiful."

Yes, you are, Marevie! Inside and out. All over the world people have been touched by this beauty of yours, and have been reminded of how precious life is.