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