The first light of dawn spills through the cracks in the walls of our home, turning the edges of the room gold. I did not sleep a wink; my body feels stiff from kneeling by Eliab’s side, drifting in and out of supplications and cries through the long hours of the night.

As I rise to my feet, I look at him as he slumbers. He’s calmer now; the violent tremors that took a hold of him last night have given way to a fitful stillness, and though his breathing is still faint, it has steadied now.

A tiny ember of hope flickers in my chest. “Perhaps the fever has broken,” I comment aloud as I lift my eyes to the heavens. “Perhaps Adonai has heard my prayers after all. Thank you, Adonai. I am so grateful…”

As I crouch gently to stroke his forehead, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. They are quickly followed by a gentle knock at the door.

“Hatita? Hatita? Are you there?”

It’s Mara, my neighbor. God bless her soul; she’s been such a source of comfort to me since I lost Yohanan. I rise stiffly, my aging knees protesting the movement, and make my way to the door. As I open it, I see her face, softened in concern as her hands are clasped over a small basket.

As always. Bringing us food whenever she can. She truly is a blessing, a friend in tough times.

“I heard of Eliab’s illness and came to see if you needed anything,” she says as steps inside the house. Entering our home, she takes a deeper look at me and shakes her head. “Dear me, Hatita! You look like you’ve had no rest at all.”

I shake my head, forcing a thin smile. “Indeed, I have not. But at least, he is still with me,” I reply. “The night was long and rather torturous, but… I believe the worst may be behind us now.”

Mara sets her basket down and comes to my side, peering over at Eliab’s frail form. “Hmmm. He looks so pale,” she murmurs, her brow creasing as she reaches out to touch his arm. “But… I believe you’re right. The fever often breaks after the worst. He’ll begin to recover from here onwards.”

I nod enthusiastically, hope surging through my heart as I kneel beside him once again to check up on him.

“I agree. See how still he is now?” I state, gently smoothing his hair. “It is only rest he needs for now. Adonai has heard my prayers. He will be well again, Mara.”

“Thank Adonai for that. I made some soup for him, so you can feed him when he wakes up.”

“Thank you so much, Mara,” I respond, gratitude filling up my heart. “You truly have been a blessi-“

Suddenly, Eliab’s body jerks violently, cutting off my words.

My heart drops as his limbs begin to spasm uncontrollably and his mouth opens in a silent cry of pain.

Just as I was beginning to have faith in his recovery, this happens?

My hands fly to his shoulders, trying to steady him as panic floods my chest. “Eliab!” I cry out. “No, no, no! Please! Stay with me, my son! Stay with me!”

Mara gasps as she rushes and kneels on his other side. Her hands tremble with trepidation as she grips his arm. “Hatita, what is happening?”

“I don’t know, Mara! I don’t know!” I sob, holding him tighter. “He’s supposed to get better. I don’t know why this is happening!”

His convulsions grow wilder and fiercer by the second, his fragile body arching unnaturally from whatever is causing this accursed attack.

Oh, goodness, what is this that ravages my child? What is this??

Suddenly, he stops, and collapses back onto the mat limply.

And then… nothing.

The silence is deafening.

“Eliab?” I whisper, shaking him gently. His head is lolled to the side, his chest is still, and his lips are parted but unmoving.

This is not good.

“No, no, no, no, no!”

I press my ear to his chest, hoping desperately to hear the faint heartbeat that was my anchor and source of relief through the night.

Nothing.

There is nothing. No heartbeat.

No heartbeat. No heartbeat…

“No, Adonai, no,” I tearfully gasp, my voice slowly breaking into a wail. “Please! Please! Don’t do this! Don’t take him from me! Don’t do this to me!”

I sink onto the floor, trembling and clutching my knees to my chest as sobs wrack my body. Through blurred vision, I see Mara crouch beside Eliab, her fingers gently pressing against his neck as she silently examines him.

This has to be some cruel joke! This cannot be happening! Elohim, are You truly letting affliction rise a second time? Are You?? First my husband, now my son? My only son??

I feel Mara’s arms wrap around me, although her grip feels distant. The only thing I feel is this… feeling. Like I am sinking into a dark abyss.

“Hatita,” she whispers, her own voice shaky and choking, “I’m sorry… but… he… he is… gone.”

“No! No!” I scream, clutching Eliab’s limp form to my chest. “He is not gone! He cannot be gone! It cannot be possible! It just can’t!”

But even as the words jump out of my throat, I know this is just a futile denial. The truth slowly and cruelly settles over me like a shroud.

My son… my only son… is gone. The only flicker of hope I held on to so tightly has been snuffed out, and only ashes are left behind.

I rock back and forth, holding him close to my chest, my tears soaking into his tunic as I scream. The weight of his limp, lifeless body in my arms is excruciating and unbearable, yet I just cannot let go.

Why, Adonai? Why would You take him too? What have I done that You would leave me so utterly alone?

Mara stays with me, her arms doing their possible best to steady my trembling frame as I weep bitterly while holding my dear Eliab’s stiff frame.

Her dedication to sticking by me and holding me in my time of pain is certainly laudable. But truly, no comfort can reach me in this moment.

My entire world is done. Ended with my son’s final breath.

If this doesn’t break your heart, I don’t what will. This is just devastating…