Brother Steve's epiphany at grave site of young child with same birth date

A few rough notes that I made of this experience: Buried here was an infant, a girl, who lived and breathed for just over six weeks. Forty-four days! . . . at once, all my senses were arrested as I stood frozen over this gravestone, now with a laser-like focus on that date. My date. A singular mark in time that was so familiar and intimate to me. . . . . . . It’s not unusual to happen upon the grave of a child when walking through a cemetery; and I, of course, felt all of the reflexive sadness – that remotely detached sadness one would expect when gazing upon the grave of a young child. But this was different. This was now personal . . . . . . I left with a sense of ACCOUNTABILITY for the 68 years I've lived – that this infant never had. . . and also a sense of obligation to my gifts . . .