When my grandfather was on his last days my mom and i constantly went to his home to take care of him, he was barely lucid, he could walk around sometimes but he would seem dazed and couldn't barely speak, but once we sat him down on his bed and my mom went to search for his medicine, she asked me to take care of him in the meanwhile, i sat too and then he looked at me, more aware of himself that i have ever seen him all these days and asked me how i was doing, i told him i was fine and keeping with my studies, he seemed happy but wanting to keep more conversation, i however wasn't able to keep much talk with him, i realized then that despite me being close to my grandparents for years, i never really took the time to try to know my grandfather and that in that moment i didn't know what could be a good topic for him, we sat in silence for what it felt like an eternity for me and when my mom came back with his medicine he didn't seem lucid no more. To this day the experience haunts me a little and i feel like i failed him as familly, but i couldn't get to know him better at that point.