You came from home, a fit old man who had lived on his own for three years after his wife went into a nursing home.
You were as deaf as post, even with your hearing aids in. Deaf, but not silly. You had loved your school days, although they were cut short because you needed to work to support your family. You told me what you knew about the heart, how it pumps blood to the body, how it pumps blood to the lungs to collect oxygen. You weren't silly.
I could almost pronounce your name right - you corrected me until I could do it, and you liked that I tried.
You came to us because you had trouble breathing. The X-ray showed the fluid in your lung space, and before we could drain it your old heart gave out. By the time we discovered your cancer the next day, you were gone.
Gone too soon perhaps, or gone on time to save yourself from more pain. Either way, may you rest in peace. I liked you.