After sitting with her, he stood up and walked away to stand by the door. I sat in the chair next to her bed and the first thing I did was take her hand, I put my head down because I knew our time was running out, what no one understands is the impact it had on my life. There may be an 83 year age difference between me and her, but she was my mentor, my story teller, my assistant, she gave me the best advice, she cooked the best food, she was the one I always aimed to make me proud, but above all she was my best friend. “It's okay to cry, honey,” my father said. But I didn't want to cry, it wasn't what grandma would have wanted, but I couldn't help it, I started to cry a little. How did my father not cry again? How could he stay so strong, he was so much closer to her than I was, but somehow he managed to stay strong through it all. I sat next to her for probably 15 minutes holding her hand, stood up, hugged her, whispered in her ear "I love you great grandma and I'll see you when I get there", kissed her cheek and turned around to leave the room. My dad was standing behind me and I walked into his arms and started crying, I couldn't bear to know that this could be the last time I