Why I Failed, Part III

"He's in a better place, and now you can use his death to inspire you. Do something dramatic to help the situation and dedicate your efforts to him."

I hope I never hear a statement like that again. I had just witnessed a senseless death. People told me he never had a chance, which is probably true. They told me that it was another example of life being unfair, which is definitely true. But that doesn't change the fact that several people used what they told me as excuses not to do everything in their power to save him. They recognized that what happened to him was terrible, but they weren't going to waste their time on a lost cause. And why should they, when there was so much else to do and kids die every day?
Based on the environment we were in, that logic actually made sense, in a defeatist sort of way. But it didn't take into account that this was a life - a precious little life that was by definition worth saving. When I brought up this point the shook my heads in pity of the spoiled little white girl who couldn't accept some of the basic facts of life.
I did everything I could to save him, not because I felt he had a good chance of surviving or because it was easy. I worked to save him on principle... and because I loved him. When he died, I suppose I could have comforted myself with the fact that I tried my best against impossible odds. I could have shrugged, said TIA (this is Africa), and moved on like the other people I worked with. I could have listened to the many voices who told me not to be sad, but to use his death to motivate me to help others with more of a chance. But I didn't, because I had allowed my heart to love a little boy - a boy no one else thought worth their time.
That's why I failed.