6-month-old martyr

A few years ago, my friend’s nearly one-and-a-half-year-old son fell into a hot water pot and was badly burnt, about 45 percent of the body was badly burnt, the condition was very critical, he was admitted to the hospital for a few days, but fortunately he did not survive.
I stayed with my friend in the hospital and then in the burial of the child’s coffin, watching him closely through these critical situations.
When I met him a few days ago, while talking, the mention of that day was unintentionally revealed .Although Allah made him a child again, but with his tone and speech, I realized that after many years, his sorrow had subsided, but it did not end.
The death of his son was to be mentioned that as he went into the windows of the past and went on telling me what he was seeing there, and I sat quietly listening.
He said that when the news came that the wife was pregnant, there was no place for happiness, the whole house was waiting, the first child was coming to the house.
If there is a girl, then what name to keep, if there is a boy, then what name, there were long discussions of all the family members. After his birth, he had become the center of attention of every member of the house, his every act, hands, smile was a source of entertainment for everyone.
In the meaningless words that came out of his mouth, everyone would find their own meaning.
Since then son had started planning for his bright future, if I would get him admitted to such and such a school, then it would be necessary to arrange such a monthly fee, someone would come home to teach the Quran, which would be better for his sports, where he would go every evening.
I had just started having fun working hard to earn money for his milk, pampers, clothes, that his sudden death shattered all dreams.
He says that on the day he died, his mother and I were grieving, but in my heart there was a thought of the responsibility of burying his coffin.As soon as I handed him over to his grave, and poured mud on it, my heart was washed away for a moment, as he was being covered in the soil, my heart was sinking, but as soon as I got to bury him, I felt a little, if not more, in my grief that at least I fulfilled my responsibility.
I went home and tried to take care of my wife, trying to say something that she could somehow get some patience, but she could not handle it, and I kept saying that be patient, I have handed her over to Allah, I have come to bury her, she is now in a better place than this world.It was to hear from my friend’s mouth that my thoughts were connected to the body of Ali Asghar in Karbala and the thought of the oppressed Bibi Rabaab, that perhaps imam al-Husayn’s burial of Ali Asghar (a) may have reduced his grief that he handed over Ali Asghar to Allah.
Dig a small grave that buried Asghar
Shabbir stood up and shook his feet.
But alas, when the army satamgar separated Ali Asghar’s head from the tan and dug a grave to raise him on the spear and pulled out the body. What would have happened to Ali Asghar’s mother once again?