FINAL YOGHURT: Before leaving for Angola, Pierre visited his 97-year-old grandmother, sensing it was goodbye.

Before boarding a flight to Angola, engineer, author, speaker and burn survivor Pierre Kuma made one final visit to the woman he described as the love of his life — his 97-year-old grandmother. He carried with him a simple gift: yoghurt.

At the time, Pierre knew his grandmother was growing weaker. Age had taken its toll, and her health had declined to the point where she struggled to speak and could barely eat. But that Sunday visit became a moment he would later hold onto as one of their most precious memories.

On his maternal side of the family, Pierre was the 12th of 14 grandchildren. By the time he came along, his grandmother had already raised nine children and cared for many grandchildren.

“She had a lot of experience by the time she got to me,” he recalled. “I like to say I had the best, but my cousins might have different opinions.”

For Pierre, however, his bond with his grandmother was undeniable. She was more than a caregiver. She was his anchor.

“I lost my body, my grandmother was my heart,” he said, reflecting on her passing.

Although he loved and respected his mother, Pierre admitted that his grandmother occupied a unique place in his life.

“People say men are close to their mothers, not to slight my mother, but my grandmother was that person,” he said.

In 2020, as he prepared to travel offshore to Angola, Pierre received a call from his mother. She told him his grandmother was very weak and suggested he visit before leaving.

He listened.

His mother also gave him a small instruction: bring yoghurt.

“She only takes yoghurt these days,” she told him.

For Pierre, there was no hesitation.

“This was my grandmother. I’m not going to think twice about this,” he said.

He bought the yoghurt and went to see her. When he arrived, the family encouraged him to feed her, knowing that she responded differently to her grandchildren.

“They were like, ‘You people know the tricks you play around,’” he recalled with a smile.

As he fed her the yoghurt that afternoon, Pierre knew time was not on their side. He had a flight to catch, but part of him wanted to stay longer.

“I was like, I wish I could stay here longer,” he said.

Before leaving, he made a request that revealed his quiet fear.

“I don’t want to go and be hearing funny stories. Just stay and wait till I come,” he told her.

But deep down, Pierre understood what the moment meant.

“When I left, I knew maybe this could be the last time,” he said.

His grandmother had lived long enough to witness important chapters of his life, including his journey to becoming an engineer. Yet Pierre wonders if she ever fully understood the work he did or the person he had become.

“She did see me as an engineer before,” he said. “I don’t know if she understood what the work I did, but maybe that’s part of it.”

What remains with him is not a grand farewell or a dramatic goodbye, but a quiet afternoon shared over a cup of yoghurt, a final act of love between a grandson and the woman who helped shape him.