I never had to face death. Not like this. Sure we had pets run away and a few of died. But never a family member. Never a grandparent. 

I had been to a funeral of a person I worked with for over a year. But this would be the first family member. 

I remember the overwhelming grief of the last funeral I had been to. Just the thought that the child that was left behind, only two years old, would have only fleeting memories of his mother. That and the photos and stories others bestowed upon him. 

It is different when the death is so personal, so real. 

My father's father is literally on his death bed and the memories I have of him are not entirely pleasant.

I remember his harsh scolds, his 'children should be seen and not heard mentality'

This lead up to his final hours has shown me a different side of him. His children and other grandchildren have loved him. Stories of laughter and love. Stories I had long forgotten. 

Now he is weak, not even opening his eyes and I long to have known him the way they have. 

What a shame it is to have missed out on so many happy memories. My own son will never get to know him.

I wish I could turn back time and build a stronger relationship with him. I wish I could have known him better. 

While our lives cannot last forever we can live on through the memories of others. Some how that comforts me. Whether you believe in heaven or life after death at least this is certain. In the memories of others we can continue to change the lives of others.