I meant it sympathetically, not sarcastically, but I found myself recoiling at the shallowness of my response. I know something of the hell that this kid and his family have been through - the uncertain future, the painful present, the longing for the trouble-free past. This - "poor kid" - is the best I can give them? They deserve more than that.
But then I realized that I don't have more than that to give right now. That if I let myself feel more than that for him and his family, it'll bring all my grief crashing down on top of me, burying me, destroying me. That saying "poor kid" isn't a sign of callousness or lack of sympathy, but a survival mechanism.
There are too many "poor kids" out there that we have met or become aware over the past three years. There are too many families simply trying to survive the journey of a sick child. The oceans are not enough to contain all the tears that should be shed on their behalf. All I can offer to them now is "poor kid", and a promise to myself that someday, when I no longer need all my tears for myself, to shed some for them.