The last time I saw my grandpa. It was about a year before he passed away. He lived in Hong Kong at the time. Staying at a senior home. I was visiting him with my parents, having come all the way from Toronto. He had dementia.

He didn’t recognize me when I saw him. I spent quite a bit of time with him while I was still a child. But as I moved here to Toronto with my family, I didn’t have many opportunities to see him because of the distance. I was a growing teenager when I visited him, a much taller, built young man. But I know the grandson he remembered was still a little boy. How I wish I was there with him more often. It was too late.