As my father jumped up the stairs in front of us, my brother and I ran as fast as we could after 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 come and sit. My grandmother was lying on the bed with her eyes closed. He was barely breathing and the color in his face was faded. My father suggested that I hold her hand, so I took her right hand and held it in mine. I couldn't help but notice how cold, fragile, and weak his hand was. Most of my closest family members were around me, crying silently and quietly telling my grandmother to stay with us. Memories soon began to flood us. When my siblings and I were younger, my grandmother gave us the wooden box full of building blocks that she kept under the bed to entertain us whenever we were bored. I remembered all those times I went out to dinner in the city with my family and grandmother. I also remembered the time she taught my sister to sew and when she gave me her purple plaid Fedora hat. I soon began to realize how much he had done for me and how I hadn't taken the time to truly appreciate him. I was so caught up in my iPad that I forgot to spend more time with mine