I will never forget the last time that I saw my Grandfather before the ambulance arrived. He was sat in his chair forcing himself to finish off his lunch whilst trying to navigate video calls from family members. he told me not to cry and that he would be returning home in a few days. After two courses on anti-biotics his chest infection and terrible cough wasn’t improving. He gradually grew weaker till he struggled to eat a full meal. My father and Uncles agonised over the decision of whether to send him to hospital for treatment. With his deteriorated state, they were left with no other choice but to send him knowing he may never come back. I kept begging my uncles not to let him go. Despite my protests the ambulance was called. I was afraid I may never see him again. I had always remembered my Grandfather as a fighter. At 94 years old he had witnessed WWII, the Partition of India and a triple heart bypass. He would always tell me stories of his career in the Navy