My grandfather lay there covered in poop that did not hesitate to embarrass an old man. We were back home from one of those hospitals we often visited. Strangely, his doctor said he’d improved, before adding that he may not be long. We took turns to wait on him: Eric would cover Monday to Tuesday because of his job, Ken would go until Thursday, then i would come in for what’s left.
There are other things that we need to heal from: cancer, ulcer and malaria could be tougher than those wars that cleansed these villages. Those doctors said he’s going to die soon. We have never felt this irk before. Our rooms were like morgues; quiet and cold. Everyone knew something was about to be right. Granny was to find peace soon- that kind that was never lost. And so we waited.