A thin, frail man, barely resembling my grand-father, lay on a hospital bed, his eyes released a ihelpless, lonely glance. Tears welled in my eyes at the sight. Shamefully, I turned away from him.

As I gazed out the window onto a playground, I remembered how my grandfather used to be. A picture of a plump, energetic man with a roaring laugh formed in my mind. He always wore a mischievous grin on his radiant face. He never ceased to tell funny jokes or to make me laugh. In his eyes, I sensed a kindness and loving that could soothe anyone's grief.

He had a caring personality that I have never found since. No matter how hard times were, or if something wasn't going right, he would sacrifice everything he had to help others.

I looked over at my grandfather, now stricken with disease. With a shaking finger he pointed to the letters on an alphabet board, for he could no longer use the muscles in his mouth to talk. Tears sprung to his eyes as he watched my aunt cry. My heart was squeezed; I couldn't stand to see such a wonderful man slowly change.

Two days later he died. Why couldn't I see him just once more as he used to be? Why did he have to be taken away from me?

I still have the memories of my grandfather; and those will never die. n