Everything was normal. Tattie and berries picking in his garden all day, at home in the evening watching television, just his daily routine. I was home though and an hour away things were about to get worse. The room was dingy and the atmosphere was gloomy. It was only then that I realized I would never see him again; one of the most significant people in my life is gone. It had been impossible to prevent. I wish I had known, but I hadn't. No one knew, but the question will always be in my mind: what if? Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay My grandfather often came to visit me, it was a normal thing. He stayed with us for almost six months every year. Obviously spread over two weeks, otherwise he might forget how to do normal things and cope on his own due to Alzheimer's disease. But I wasn't prepared for what this particular visit entailed, and I had no idea how heartbroken it would leave me. My mum picked him up in Arbroath while I was at school and I couldn't wait to see him when I got home. I ran through the front door, eager to see my grandfather, but as soon as I saw him my mood changed. His face was gaunt and his once rosy cheeks were now sunken. His body had also changed radically. His belly, once rounded from whiskey, biscuits and cake, had shrunk to nothing. As I hugged him I felt like I could feel every bone in his body through his sweater. I was shocked. I tried to convince myself that he had simply gone on more walks or that he had forgotten to eat a few meals here and there. Maybe his Alzheimer's disease was getting worse? A few days after his visit my mother decided she should call a doctor. His breathing was becoming unstable and he was becoming weaker than ever. It was at this point that I began to fully realize the extent of the problem. I should have known something was wrong, but then I was in denial. He was hospitalized for five days and in those five days my life was full of hospital visits and stress. I was constantly on the move between school, hospital and home. Like a broken record that goes round and round. It was impossible to take a break. Every time I entered the hospital my hands became sweaty and my nose stung from the smell of disinfectant that filled the corridor. I noticed new things every time I visited. Things doctors didn't notice. They didn't know that every time they served them food they immediately threw it in the bin, but I did. It seemed like weeks before he was discharged. Weeks spent explaining to him where he was and what was happening. Weeks of my life put on hold. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer, which came completely out of the blue. I was also told that he had had a silent heart attack, which most likely occurred while he was digging his garden, where he loved to spend his time. His accordion, which was once played for hours, sat still, its keys gathering dust, too heavy for his weak arms to hold. I knew things were going badly when he said we would watch that girl on television instead of playing his accordion. My grandfather, who had developed a great love for music over the years, and still remembered songs from his dance band days, even if he had forgotten simple things about them, had decided that he would rather watch television than listen to your own music. But at that moment I didn't imagine that he wouldn't be able to hold on for that long. It took about four days. Four days to understand what.