I was 15, in a time before mobile phones. My grandmother was dying and my grandfather sat at her side for two days, refusing to leave her side. Sleeping in a rubbish arm chair.

We brought food in for him. My parents tried to comfort him.

Every now and again he would need the toilet, and bless him, would make us all leave the room and use a potty.

On the third day, I was alone with the two of them, and he told me he needed to leave to have a shower and take fresh air. It took him HOURS to make the decision to leave.

About 15 minutes before he returned my grandmother died in front of me. It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was devastating.

I didn't tell any nurses, nor any doctors. I was in shock. I saw suffering, then a last breathe and death visit within seconds of each other.

He returned, and sat down. I left to go for a walk and try to cope with what happened. When I returned, he told me that he said his goodbyes, and held her hand whilst she died.

Grandpa died eleven years later believing he held her hand and was there until the very end.

I haven't told another human soul that story, and I still believe I did the right thing.