Everything had been normal. Tattie and her picking berries in her garden all day, inside watching TV in the evening, just her daily routine. But I was home and, an hour away, things were about to get worse. The room was dull and the atmosphere sinister. It was only then that I realized I would never see him again; one of the most important people in my life – gone. It had been inevitable. I wish I knew, but I didn't. No one knew, but the question will always remain in my mind: what if? Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an original essayMy grandfather used to visit me often, it was a regular thing. He stayed with us for almost six months every year. Spread over two weeks of course, otherwise he risks forgetting ordinary things and fending for himself because of his Alzheimer's disease. But I wasn't prepared for what this particular visit entailed, and I didn't know how much it would break my heart. My mother picked it up from Arbroath while I was at school and I couldn't wait to see it when I got home. I walked 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 drastically. Her belly, once rounded from whiskey and cookies and cakes, was reduced to nothing. As I hugged him, I felt like I could feel every bone in his body through his sweater. I was in shock. I tried to convince myself that he had just gone on more walks or had forgotten to eat a few meals here and there. Maybe his Alzheimer's disease had gotten worse? A few days after her visit, my mother decided she should call a doctor. His breathing was becoming unsteady and he was becoming weaker than ever. It was at this point that I began to fully realize the magnitude of the problem. I should have known something was wrong, but at the time I was in denial. He was admitted to the hospital for five days, and for those five days, my life consisted of hospital visits and stress. I was constantly on the move between school, hospital and home. Like a broken record going around in circles. It was impossible to take a break. Every time I entered the hospital, my hands would get sweaty and my nose would sting from the smell of disinfectant that filled the hallway. I noticed new things with each visit. Things the doctors didn't notice. They didn't know that every time they served him food, he immediately threw it in the trash, but I knew that. It took weeks before he was released. Weeks of explaining to him where he was and what was happening. Weeks of my life put on hold. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer, which was completely unexpected. I was also told that he suffered a silent heart attack, probably occurring while he was digging his garden, where he liked to spend his time. His accordion, once played for hours, sat, the keys gathering dust, too heavy for his weak arms to hold. I knew things were going to get worse when he said we would watch this girl on TV rather than play her accordion. My grandfather, who had developed a great love of music over the years, still remembered the songs of his dance band, even though he had forgotten simple things, had decided that he preferred to watch television instead that.