A Letter to Sophia

Jan, a team member, wrote this beautiful letter to Sophia. I will be translating and sending it to her family. I wanted to share these loving words...

LETTER TO SOPHIA
March 23, 2010
Dear Sophia--
You never knew our names; you never knew how we cherished you and your vibrant spirit. To you, we were the people who strolled down your street one morning and kept coming back to build a house with your neighbors. You never knew how much your happy 5-year old voice delighted us that first day as you, peeking out through the hole in your gate, called out: “Hello. What is your name? My name is Sophia Khan.”
You never knew how your visits to the build site made us smile. You were a bit quieter and shyer then, seeming to wisely observe all the activities. When you went back into the street, you bounced about playing with your friends. You giggled when Steve did his crazy dancing and singing with all the kids and laughed when he taught all of you to play “Rock, paper, scissors.” You told your family that he was your favorite.
You never knew that our Habitat work team wondered what you would do when you grew up. Would you manage to get an education? We thought so because your mother seems well-educated. Would you manage to escape the harshness of life in your village of Hegdenagar? But then we asked if you would find, beyond the dusty streets, the love,acceptance and freedom that you have had there? Would you find happiness wherever you were? We thought and hoped that you would.
You knew, from our whooping and cheering at Friday’s neighborhood game day, our excitement when you threw the ball knocking over six water bottles, coming in second place to your mother’s seven! You knew we wanted you in the photos of the neighborhood kids and with the Habitat team.
You never knew how treasured these moments and photos would become. You never knew that Steve wanted to buy you a special gift that weekend but didn’t because of the Habitat rule that says we can’t unless we do it for all the kids. You never knew that on Tuesday morning we came to your gate to see you and your funny little goat.
You never knew, dear precious child, because on Monday you died.” Sophia? Little Sophia? Dead? How can that be?” Your grandmother said that you had climbed on a table, had fallen and hit your head. You had seemed to be getting better; then you just stopped breathing. So did we.
In accordance with Muslim law, you were buried before sundown that day. You never knew the tears shed, the prayers prayed, the cold pit of loss we all felt and feel. You, like the butterflies who came and brushed us with their wings, flitted into our lives bringing beauty and great joy. And then, like them, you were gone.
Our lives were touched and enriched by the few days that we knew you. Your spirit and beauty vibrated within each one of us. You were a child of promise, a child of the future of India. Your death has left your family heartbroken, your neighborhood quieter, your new friends bereft and people who didn’t even know you, sorrowful.
In the days since, I’ve reflected on you and the gifts you brought to those blessed enough to have been with you. One of the greatest gifts you brought to me is that you have become the face of children who die. Whether they die of accidents, disease, earthquakes, tsunamis, or neglect, all have died too early. They are loved, they are mourned, they are missed.
You, Sophia, child of blessing and wisdom, are also loved, mourned, and missed. You will always live in our hearts.
With love, laughter and tears.