At this point, at which your father, the man who had taken care of you with our falter since you could remember, was no longer as capable as he was before, he felt like a bit of burden on your own family. Sure, he's getting old, and his salt-and-pepper hair is turning whiter with each passing day, and the effects of aging are hitting hard, arthritis, back pain, sciatica, you name it. But he's your dad.

Everyone was around the table, having their dinner, and your own kids couldn't help but wince with each difficult shift their grandpa made, his spoon rattling as he tried to eat by himself, by his own stubbornness. It fell to the side of his soup with a clatter, spilling across the table.

"I.. I'm so sorry, luv, I didn't mean ta-" he shook his head, and with a grunt, leaned over to pick up his spoon.