A loss is heavy to all hearts,
Straining to understand the why in life,
Doubting all around you,
Being cold as winter,
Time loses meaning to you,
It isn’t fair, is it?

Blind with your eyes open,
Silence becomes too loud,
Dreaming of the best memoir’s together
It isn’t fair, is it?

You can hear pin drops,
Sunk in the depths of loneliness,
With a grievous and bleeding heart,
Trying to comprehend the loss,
It isn’t fair, is it?

Precious a two and a half years old, living with her Grandpa, innocent of her dad’s betrayal as he abandoned her. To her grandpa, she is a bundle of joy he has never experienced in the world, with a constant smile on his face. A granddaughter he could do anything for. Her mum is struggling with two odd jobs for her upkeep and the grandpa holds as her nanny.

Like any normal afternoon, Precious went to play with her friends as grandpa sat on a shed with his newspaper. Amidst play, Precious wondered off into the bush picking sweet salty herbs as they played with. They ate them as they laughed and continued their playful adventure.

Why was it only Precious? Where did she miss out on the good ones? I wonder how they all grow up with all the dangers looming in their faces! Why? Guess she is just a kid!

After play they came back running with Precious calling out “Ghuka! Ghuka!” I’ m here.” and grandpa receiving her with love. Like most grandparents do to their grandkids, he fed her and just before her nap he felt an urge to give her a cheeky hug. Immediately noticing all wasn’t well. His hunch was right and before he could think, Precious was throwing up so bad. She was breathing so heavy. You know the reaction of fulfillment and satisfaction you get after taking a good meal? This was not it.

Freaking out, anxious and not thinking straight, Grandpa called her mum and they had to rush her to the hospital that evening. I know you’re wondering how on earth did they get a vehicle for transport that fast, right? Well, that’s the power of a scared mother and an anxious grandpa. Back to the hospital. She was admitted and her condition managed using antibiotics and other medications. Apparently, that is what the doctor made them believe. Her mother even reported that she was improving and giving her usual smiles, if you’ve ever had an ailing friend or relative you would know this feeling of hope. It is beautiful.

Her mother called in a frantic tone. This was barely hours later.
Fear, pain, shuttering and darkness is all she felt. She was in an empty space. “Precious please say something, wake up please, oh! God” she cried out, “Doctor please help, say something please, my daughter, my love!” Doctors and nurses surrounding her, try to resuscitate her but she had already taken her last breath, she was silent, her body cold and chill. She was gone. Gone never to return. Gone!

Grandpa’s face…Still as water of the deep seas. He sat by the bench with his palm on his cheeks thinking but could not discern, searching but could not determine. He was blank. When was the last time he felt this hollow? His dear Precious, his friend, and his daily company, his companion. She was no more!

I have never thought of what could make an eighty year old man shed tears, I could only imagine the pain he felt. His reason to live was no more, if only he could switch places with her but that remains a wish.

“Ghuka, Ghuka Ghuka” The voice of precious calling. A young spirited child. A soul full of energy and freedom. It hurt him so bad. “Ghukaaaaa!” she calls in her head but that’s all it is, a voice… A MEMORY.
She rests. Her young soul is at peace now. She suffers no more. Well, death won the war but the battle.