We're middle class. So my son enjoys a lot of good things.
So when he's outgrown some of his clothes and stuff, I really have no problem giving them away. Actually, the really used ones, I feel embarassed about giving away but my cousin still gets them for their neighbors in Bicol, my mother's hometown. After all, they ARe clean... just really used (so some are forever stained by vitamins or some food my son ate).
The good, not so used ones, I pass on to my cousin whose son is younger than Yakee by a year. Some I also give to my SIL so my nephew can use it.
Now, I also gave away A LOT of shoes. My cousin got this pair of slippers for her godson who she says was almost two years older than my son but was really small, with this huge belly. Yes, that little boy is malnourished. And he's going around barefoot. I think their father died and there were many of them and the mother couldn't cope. Anyway, the little boy was happy with my son's slippers.
He was given it last May. This August, that little boy died.
Because of poverty, the little boy became neglected more and more. He contracted Hepatitis B and his stomach was just so full of worms. I'm not sure if nothing could be done for him or nothing was done for him. They were poor. We all have an idea how their stories go.
My heart aches for the little boy. And it's kinda creepy that someone who wore my son's slippers is now dead.
Two boys whose feet slipped into the same pair had two very different lives. One continues to thrive now while the other one is gone. One continues to be showered by love and attention, the other soon forgotten by his family. One gets invited to homes and birthday parties, the other became a reason for other homes in the barrio to close their doors to kids like him for fear of having their own kids catch diseases. One continues owning pairs of shoes and slippers... and the other, I don't even know how he was garbed in burial.
And yet, in God's eyes, they're one and the same. His own.