I was just a kid

I was just a kid when he left. I remember running into his room excited to visit. Leaping onto the bed where he lay watching tv. He was happy to see me, as always. But he moved slower than usual. My little gaze met his. And staring back at me was a mix of happiness and pain. His eyes were yellow. Tinged with the result of the disease that ravaged his liver. The disease that was about to cause his early demise. It's funny how even as a child, I looked back into those eyes and realized that something was not right with him. Quietly, I lay next to him. And we sat there for a while in silence. Watching tv.

I remeber not long after that day, people were arriving at the house one after the other. Family members that I rarely see. A pastor to come in for prayers. All of my immediate cousins along with their parents. My mom's siblings. We were all there. And then the ambulance arrived. They wheeled him out on a stretcher and took him off to the hospital. I stood there and watched them do so. My mom, my grandma, uncles and aunt. All of them around him. Following them as they took him. Another aunt. His brother's sister. She stayed behind to be with us as everyone else went to the hospital. My mom and dad included.

Soon we were off doing what we did best. We played. Laughing and having a great time as kids often and should do. Then there was a moment. I can't quite explain it. But I stopped playing. I did. I had no idea why exactly. But all I do know was there was an overwhelming sense of sadness that came over me. I knew something was different. Something was wrong.

And then the phone rang.

He was gone. My grandpa was gone. We all cried. Even before my Aunt came out to say anything to us. I cried. And cried. Even to think about it today. The memory I have is so vivid. I can see his eyes. I close my eyes and see his staring back at me. Filled with love and pain.