While my father jumped down the stairs well ahead of us, my brother and I rushed as quickly as possible behind him. When my brother and I finally arrived, we noticed that the door was already wide open and everyone was crowded into my grandmother's room. My brother and I entered the room and stood in the doorway until my father called us both to sit down. My grandmother was lying on her bed with her eyes closed. She was barely breathing and the color in her face was drained. My dad suggested I hold one of his hands, so I took his right hand and held it in mine. I couldn't help but notice how cold and fragile and weak his hand was. Most of my closest family members were around me, silently crying and gently telling my grandmother to stay with us. The memories quickly began to flood in. When my siblings and I were younger, my grandmother would give us the wooden box filled with blocks under her bed to entertain us whenever we were bored. I remember all those times I would go out to dinner in town with my family and my grandmother. I even remember when she taught my sister to sew and when she gave me her purple plaid fedora hat. I quickly began to realize how much she had done for me and how much I hadn't taken the time to truly appreciate her. I was so busy with my iPad that I forgot to spend more time with mine