The doctor came in around 9 a.m. to do his rounds. He asked them to excuse him as he wanted to check up on his little patient without disturbance. When he was done he called them back in and had a concerned look on his face.

“The boy needs to be transferred to Nelson Mandela Academic Hospital. His brain is swelling, he needs special medication that we do not have here. One of you will have to travel with him in an ambulance, I will organize one to leave in an hour or so,” said the doctor.

“Why is this happening to our child doc?” asked Tlokwe with tears flooding down her cheeks.

“Unfortunately I do not have all the answers right now Ma’am, but as soon as you get there, you might get clarity. This is a very rare condition that your child has, more especially for a child this young,” the doctor tried to explain.

“We will go together,” said Ncedo trying to save the doctor from more scrutiny from Tlokwe.

He too wanted to know what was really going on with their child but he had realised that the doctor was either as clueless as they or didn’t want to tell them the real truth.

An hour later they were in another waiting room at Nelson Mandela Hospital while the doctors were busy with their child. He had sent a message to his mother informing her of the latest developments on her only grandson. He felt a pang of hunger and realised that he hadn’t eaten since the previous day.

He went to buy some fruits and bought enough for the both of them, but Tlokwe didn’t want to eat anything. She didn’t talk and there was nothing Ncedo wished more than to hear her say something even if it was to share her fears. But she just looked numb as if life had been brought to a standstill for her. He was hurting too, but he wished that she could open up so they could carry the pain together.

He missed his son’s giggles and his gibberish language. He was such a happy child who hardly cried except for when he was hungry or needed a nappy change. Ever since he was born he had made it a point that he sees him almost every day even if it was for a few hours. He enjoyed feeding him his bottle and changing his nappy which didn’t end well. The boy always found pleasure in peeing on his father’s face. And no matter how careful he tried to be, funny enough, Tlokwe always found humor in this and always made fun of him. When he had to go, Landa always cried for his father and that made him more determined to find work and pay lobola so that they could get married and stay together as a family.

Hours later, doctors came out and the look on their faces said it all, something was definitely not right.

“We tried all we could but it was too late, your son had meningitis. He slipped through our fingers and we did all we could to bring him back but he didn’t respond. I’m really sorry. If you need anything else please talk to the sister in that office, she will organize counselling for the both of you and help you with the necessary arrangements to take the body home. I’m sorry again for your loss.”

Though the doctor said these words right in front of them, to Ncedo and Tlokwe, he sounded miles away and as if there was an echo somewhere in the suddenly cold waiting room. He kept mumbling something but Ncedo didn’t hear a word he was saying.

The only thing that was playing in his mind was the “I’m sorry for your loss” line the doc had said before leaving them.

What loss was he talking about? Surely it wasn’t the death of their son, he was just too young to die. While busy trailing in deep thoughts, Ncedo was brought back to reality by a sharp scream that sent chills down his spine. Tlokwe was letting it all out, screaming her lungs out. The nurses rushed to them and tried consoling her but she was having none of it. Of all the worst things that could have happened in their lives, Ncedo never for a second imagined that he would be without his son.

“God, why did you let us have him if you knew we were not to see him grow? Why did you let us love him and invest so much time, energy, dreams and hopes in him when you knew that his time was short on earth? You shouldn’t have let me buy all those things I bought him yesterday, knowing that he would be no more today. I took the bakery job so I could provide for my son not to bury him. How am I going to move on from here God, tell me how? Give me one more day with him, just to hold him one more time, to throw him in the air and hear him giggle one more time. Just one more day that’s all I’m asking from you God.”

Ncedo was already on the floor as he cried to God. A nurse had tried to console them telling them that they were still young and would get a chance to have more children in the future. But one thing she didn’t understand was that no child could ever replace their Landa, he was unique and more than special in their hearts. Their Landa was no more.

***

Tell us what you think: What advice would you give Ncedo and Tlokwe right now?