The hospital smelled like antiseptic and rain-soaked coats."He is stable for now," the doctor told me outside the ICU. "We are waiting on the next set of results. Stay close."Through the glass, Grandpa looked smaller than he ever had, swallowed by white sheets and machines.My parents died in a car accident when I was very young. Grandpa raised me with his rough, callused hands.Anything other children had, he tried to give me. He only ate stale bread, but would travel across town on my birthday to buy my favorite little pastries from the bakery I liked. During summer blackouts, he sat by my bed all night waving a paper fan so I could sleep, while sweat ran down his own face.When I got into a good university, he was happier than I was. He went around the whole building telling neighbors, "My Elara is going places."But he got old. Too old, too fast. After the diagnosis, he often held my hand and said, "Elara, I am not afraid of dying. I am afraid of leaving you alone in this w
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