Today I visited a doctor I'd never met before, a woman about my age. She was treating me like a number: staring at her computer, typing in a few details, looking bored. At one point I happened to mention to her that I was pregnant earlier this year, not to garner sympathy but because I thought that information might be helpful to her. She tried to show some interest in me, finally, and asked, "So, is your baby well?" I said the horrible thing I have to tell everyone who asks that, "He died at birth."
You know what, Nahum? As soon as she heard what had happened to you, her look and her tone changed. She said two or three times, "I'm so sorry to hear that" and "I'm terribly sorry to hear that." And suddenly she became kind, open and helpful for the rest of the appointment.
You bring the best out in people, sweet baby. If there is anything kind in their souls, you draw it out. I saw that over and over this year. Even people who have never met you are kind to me because of you. What a special boy you were, and are, to show me everyone's kindest side! It makes me think that you must be an especially sweet, kind boy yourself.
What a kind God I must have, to give me such a kind son.