Roots.

For it is a promise that when one is saved, the whole household would be, eventually.

A swirling mass of despondency descended from the ashen skies and swept upon the small little, desolent ward. The room was fraught with wretchedness and dolour. Scouring with melancholy, the wind accompanied the faze of anguish and agony which gripped his gaunt face. His strength was fading with every second. Under those eyes haunted by an inner trepidation was a troubled, mind, feeble, that acknowledged the sapping time and strength left of him. He knew he wouldn't last. He knew that it'll be over. He knew that it'll be the end. He closed his eyes as he felt his grip waning, abaning. Faint streaks of memories materialised before his very eyes. It felt so surreal. Then, there came a light which was growing in intensity and a person, clad in white, materialised from the within and descended, placing his hand on my grandpa's head. "Ni Hao Le(you've been healed)," whispered the person i white.

With that, my grandfather found himself, rescued from the vice-like grip of death, and healthier than ever. The sickness has been overcome my what was seemingly a strange man in white, an angel.

That was my grandfather's testimonial. That was how he got saved. That was his life story. That was the only thing i know about him
That will be the only thing i need to know about him...