(Remembering a companion, who is suffering in the hospital bed and the doctors are reportedly have said that his days are counted...)
I am quite sure that this short piece will never reach to you. You must be in your hospital bed, when I type this. You must be silently suffering. There may be someone with you. Your mother must be sitting very close to you. She must be praying to God a hundred times for your speedy recovery. She must be remembering your childhood days. The things you did – perhaps something funny! Her suffering reminds me the suffering of our dear Mother Mary. She saw terrible sufferings of her dear Son Jesus. Your brother might be silently asking God, ‘why?’ He must be also recalling all the moments you both have spent together. They might include little fights at the dining table or at the play ground.
I am quite sure that this short piece will never reach to you. You must be in your hospital bed, when I type this. You must be silently suffering. There may be someone with you. Your mother must be sitting very close to you. She must be praying to God a hundred times for your speedy recovery. She must be remembering your childhood days. The things you did – perhaps something funny! Her suffering reminds me the suffering of our dear Mother Mary. She saw terrible sufferings of her dear Son Jesus. Your brother might be silently asking God, ‘why?’ He must be also recalling all the moments you both have spent together. They might include little fights at the dining table or at the play ground.
