The death of a very young child represents an encounter with mortality that has no compensating narrative of a life well-lived, no accumulated achievements to celebrate, no natural completion of a life’s arc.

It is loss at its most unmitigated.

The people who buried the Anzick child — who carefully prepared the burial with red ochre, who gathered a remarkable assemblage of their finest technological objects to accompany this child, who placed the bundle of remains and artifacts in the sandstone outcrop and left it to the 13,000-year wait that followed — were people who loved and mourned this child.

They were not simply performing a ritual for its own sake.