It was a gray May afternoon in Mexico City, in the pediatric ward of a public hospital, when I witnessed one of the most heartbreaking scenes of my life. A father, alone, without resources, without company or hope, held his sick little son tightly, wrapped only in a blanket. The child had no diaper or medical attention. His little body trembled in his father’s arms.

The man, visibly dejected, whispered in his ear while tenderly rocking him, trying to soothe a pain he knew he couldn’t heal:

— “Son, kapít lang… forgive me, because I have no money.”

He said it softly, but it was as if time had stopped. That whisper—a mixture of love, pain, and hopelessness—hovered in the air. It was impossible not to cry. The father’s suffering felt like a silent scream that pierced the hospital walls.

A citizen who was also in the area, moved by the situation, approached and offered them a little food, money for diapers, and medicine. Thanks to this gesture of humanity, the little boy was able to eat and be a little more comfortable for a few hours.

However, the most painful thing was yet to come. When they asked the father about the boy’s mother, he replied, his voice breaking:

—“She’s in jail…”

It was like another blow to the heart. I imagined what that meant: not only dealing with his son’s illness, but also bearing all the responsibility and abandonment. He was alone, without means, without support, but not without faith. Because even in his worst moments, he would repeat:

— “Kapit lang tayo sa taas… Huwag tayong susuko. Hindi tayo pababayaan ng Diyos.”
(Let us hold on to God… Let us not give up. He will not abandon us.)

His words were a ray of light in the midst of a moonless night. A reminder that faith can survive even where all seems lost.

Painful update:

A few hours later, we learned the news that no one wanted to read:
Little Eje Fabros passed away.

His little body couldn’t hold on. He died in the arms of a father who loved him with all his being, who held him until his last breath. A father who, despite having nothing, gave him everything: love, warmth, and faith.

Today, Eje no longer suffers. He has become another little angel, free from pain, now wrapped in eternal light.
May God rest you in His glory, little one. 🕊️

Final reflection:

Eje’s story is not an isolated case. In public hospitals across Mexico, hundreds of families face similar situations every day. Poverty shouldn’t be a death sentence. A father’s love shouldn’t have to fight against such an indifferent system.

May this story awaken our consciences. May it teach us to look with more compassion, to reach out, to be that citizen who reached out with help… because sometimes, a small act of kindness can be all someone has left in this world.

Rest in peace, little Eje Fabros. Your short life touched many hearts. ❤️