You still don’t understand. You were not there. You don’t know. I saw him when he was sick. I saw him at his worst; I thought it was about over for him. He lay in bed with his eyes closed. I would touch him to feel his pulse. Fine, I would say. It’s fine. I’m so happy. You’re still with us. The minute he opened his eyes he looked around the room. The sadness he must have felt was heartbreaking. I didn’t dare ask him, but I knew. He wanted his family. He wanted to see them. He didn’t care about anything or anybody else. I could imagine his wondering if they’d come back from that far away country. Nobody except them was allowed to hug or kiss him. I wanted to comfort him many times, but something held me back. I cared deeply for his welfare, yet I had to pretend to him that we were almost strangers.