Samira Calehr's normally cheerful, well-travelled son should have been excited. His silver suitcase sat in the living room, ready to go.
But something was off.
A day earlier, while playing soccer near Amsterdam, Miguel, 10, had burst out: ''How would you choose to die? What would happen to my body if I was buried? Would I not feel anything because our souls go back to God?''
The next morning, she would drop Miguel and his big brother, Shaka, at the airport so they could catch Malaysia Airlines flight 17, the first leg of their journey to Bali to visit their grandmother.
But the night before his big trip, Miguel refused to release his mother from his grasp.
It was 11pm on Wednesday, July 16. Miguel, Shaka and the 296 other people aboard MH17 had about 15 hours left to live.
The next morning, Ms Calehr and her friend Aan ushered her sons on to the train to the airport.
Shaka, 19, had just finished his first year of college, where he was studying textile engineering, and promised to keep an eye on Miguel.
Their other brother, Mika, 16, hadn't been able to get a seat on the flight, and would travel to Bali the next day.
At the check-in counter, Ms Calehr fussed over her boys' luggage. Shaka, meanwhile, realised he'd forgotten to pack socks. Ms Calehr promised to buy him some and send them along with Mika.
Finally, they were outside customs. The boys hugged Ms Calehr goodbye and walked towards passport control.
Suddenly, Miguel whirled around and ran back, throwing his arms around his mother.
''Mama, I'm going to miss you,'' he said. ''What will happen if the airplane crashes?''
''Don't say that,'' she said, squeezing him. ''Everything will be OK.''
Shaka tried to reassure them both. ''I will take care of him,'' he said to his mother. ''He's my baby.''
MH17 took off about 12.15pm on what should have been an 11-hour and 45-minute flight.
It lasted two hours.
In Amsterdam, Ms Calehr had just finished buying Shaka's socks when her phone rang. It was Aan. ''Where are you?'' he screamed. ''The plane crashed!''
She made it home just in time to faint. Grief-stricken Ms Calehr wishes she had paid more attention to her son's worries.
''If I could just turn back time. I didn't listen to him. I don't know, I have no words to say.''
Still stunned by the tragedy that has overtaken her family, she pleaded: ''Why didn't they take my life? They are still young, they still have a future. Why? Why the children? Why not me?''
Samira's brother Harun told CNN his nephew Mika was being ''very brave'' - like his mother and grandmother.
''It comes in waves,'' he said.
''One minute they're completely distraught and inconsolable, and the other minute they're smiling and reminiscing and talking about the fun things that the boys did: the good things, the fun times, the memories.''
The boys' grandmother, Yasmine Calehr, said the family was heartbroken.
''Everybody is crying, everybody is losing something that belonged to them, but we feel like we have lost ourselves as well.''
Harun said they were now focused on ensuring the boys' remains are repatriated to the Netherlands, where they can be given a proper farewell.
''As devastating as this process has been, we would like to have a grave, something to put into a grave, some remains or possibly the bodies intact to come home,'' he said.
Sole surviving brother Mika says he has lost his ''best friends'' but insists the bond he has with Miguel and Shaka will go on beyond the grave.
''It feels like they're already one with me now,'' he said. ''They're my best friends, they're my brothers, and I feel like they're going to watch over me forever.''
Associated Press
