Many old people in my family has died ricently. But the youngest one to die was my grandfather. He got only 54 (or 52). I was in 2:nd grade when I found out he was sick, suffering from Stroke. He was at the hospital for a long time. Even asking my Mom where I was. I never visited him on the hospital, since I was afraid of it and I was scared to see him so sickly. He asked everytime where I was. After a time, he felt into coma. The doctors told Mom that they had to drag out the machine, since he will never woke up. So when they drg it out, he was dead. I felt so bad when I never visited him on the hospital and went to his furneral. But I will always love my grandfather, and that shall he know. Still, sometimes it's nagging me in the back of my head that I never visited him.
I could not speak that day when Dad told me he was dead. He wa crying in the kitchen. My grandma fetched me, I understand that Dad couldn't drive in that state. I was speachless whole day, I couldn't even cry. Since he died from Stroke, I want to be a nurse and help other people. And I hope it comes true.