Babies should not die

Yesterday, Trevor, out of the blue, asks "why did the Baby die?" "The Baby" was the baby of a friend who was one-month old and died of an enlarged heart and liver, and we attended his funeral on my birthday. To Trevor's question, why did the Baby die? I said I didn't know, that sometimes people died. The Baby's body wasn't working right and he died. I don't know how to explain it to an adult, let alone a 4-year old. I don't even know what made Trevor think of the Baby in the first place. He never even met the Baby, nor did he attend his funeral, nor even learn about it til after we'd returned. Something struck a chord in my son's heart about this child and his untimely death. I can understand that - I think about the Baby frequently too. I think of his parents. I think of the life he'll never have. I think of the life he DID have and the people he touched in just 32 days of living. I especially think of his mommy. His real mommy, and the double burden of grief she bears, and I'm so impressed with her strength and her character.