Before you scroll… please pause. 💔
Just for a heartbeat.

He is only five years old 👦—
too young to understand why his mama won’t wake up 🤍.
Too young to grasp why the world suddenly feels colder, quieter, emptier.

Inside a quiet chapel ⛪, where even the air felt heavy with grief, the little boy did something no child should ever have to do. He dragged a chair closer 🪑, climbed up with all the strength his small body could find, and wrapped his tiny arms around

 his mother’s coffin ⚰️.

One last hug.
The only one left.

There were no tears 😔.
No cries.
Just a soft, broken whisper that barely escaped his lips:
“Mama, please…” 💬

His mother was only 29 🌸.
She died giving life to his newborn brother 👶—a baby who was still fighting to survive in a hospital room 🏥, unaware of the sacrifice that had brought him into the world.

That image—
tiny arms pressed against cold glass—
stopped hearts everywhere 🕯️.

It became a symbol of love that refuses to disappear.
Of a bond stronger than death.
Of a child’s instinct to reach for the one place that ever felt safe.

Because even in death, a mother’s love stays 🤍.
It lingers in whispered prayers.
In invisible embraces.
In the quiet strength that carries a child forward when nothing else can.

And somehow, even in this unbearable loss, love remains