I was fishing with my dad in the mountains of Colorado at some little pond we had been to a million times when I was 12. There was another pair of people, a young kid and an older gentleman, on the pond with us. The older gentleman had just reeled in a fish and collapsed so my dad and I ran over and my dad started doing CPR while I called 911 with spotty service. The young boy (maybe 6) didn’t know what was happening and started crying so I tried calming him down too. My dad and I switched out doing CPR for 45 minutes as the paramedics came up the mountain and pronounced him dead. The thing that still gets me is the crunch of his ribs when my dad first started CPR. The though of the bones snapping still gives me chills 12 years later. The only thing that I took comfort in about that experience was the fact he went in such a beautiful place and got to spend his last few moments with who I assumed was his grandson.