some ailment ate my father, they say he died of pulmonary tb, his death certificate says so too. with pressed lungs and loose stomach he lay helpless at van velden hospital rush gnawed at his worn-out body. muscles withered away like cattle gripped by hostile drought. 45 years of age – never married, my father was a truck driver, a church man – people’s “man” too. he perished in the claws of venial sickness in his sleep – silenced by pain 18 children orphaned. we buried him last week, tears poured like torrential rains anger of unfinished business, and a life gone too soon.
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