On the day of my grandpa’s death, I went over to his house for goodbyes as we knew the end was near. My Grandpa survived the great depression, was a World War II veteran, and raised a phenomenal family. He had a remarkable life, and sadly the end was near. When I arrived I knew this would be the last time seeing him. I gently grabbed his hand and looked at him in the most precious way, a way that can never be replaced or forgotten. Lying down in a bed full of soft cream color blankets, fluffy white pillows, and a peaceful tv hum, I gently grabbed his weakened hand. Looking at him in these valuable last moments I said my goodbyes; I expressed how much I loved him, and told him how he will be with me forever. Still holding his vulnerable hand I said “I love you” for the last time. I slowly started to pull my hand away when I felt a slight grasp on my palm. I heard a faint