First off, let me say this: I'm not really looking for advice. I don't want pity. I seek only... understanding and perhaps empathy. My grandfather has been the closest thing to a father I've had since mine left when I was three. Always there for me, always willing to pamper me. He loved me, he was a great man, and I adored him. He was eighty-three, not related to me by blood, he married my grandmother when both their children were grown. But he protected me like a child of his own. Two years ago, he was diagnosed with mild dementia, which would progressively worsen. I watched him on weekends, to make sure he never fell and hurt himself. He began to have strokes. He shuffled when he walked. He still did everything he could to spoil me. Four days ago, my grandfather was admitted to the hospital for a massive stroke. When they tried to give him an MRI, he went into full cardiac arrest. His heart failed. Yesterday, my grandfather died.