It’s not fair, the life you lived.
I am so sorry.
I’m sorry that you were hungry. I’m sorry that you were sick. I’m sorry that you were lonely. I’m sorry that you knew so much pain.
I’m sorry that you never blew out the candles on a birthday cake, or spent an afternoon visiting a zoo or a park.
I’m sorry that you lived in an orphanage instead of a home. I’m sorry that you put yourself to bed at night. I’m sorry that I couldn’t sit for hours on end, just me and you.
I am so sorry that I cannot remember if I kissed you goodbye when I left. I’m pretty sure I did because I said goodbye to everyone but I can’t remember the last moment I held you in my arms. My heart aches for that memory, for the knowledge that I assured you that you were loved. I can’t believe I can’t remember.
I’m sorry that the pain of this life consumed your time here. I’m so very sorry.
Jesus, please come and take this world away.