I did not know him well. He didn't speak much, though the few words he spoke were gentle. He kept himself very much to himself. His name was Peter and apart from that, and that he had a daughter and a wife I know little of him. He was in my ward, the bed diagonally opposite, only close enough for shouted conversations which were not his style.
His last day was spent in much pain, his relatives beside him, the ward quiet apart from his stifled whimpers of agony and the occasionally whispered "Why me?". I could not answer him, save to say "I don't know the answer, Peter".
We were not friends but I miss him.
Where you have gone, there is no more pain.
Rest in peace
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