My grandad died two years ago and had Alzheimer's.

I knew I didn't visit him enough or try hard enough with the relationship, but I didn't do anything about it. Life got in the way. When he developed Alzheimer's I felt less bad about it because I knew he didn't really know who I was anymore anyway.

Cut to the last day I visited him, perhaps a month before he died, and as we go to leave, my dad puts his hand on my shoulder and asks my grandad if he knows who I am. Grandad smiles at me and says "Of course, that's Grzzlrbr!"

Devastating. I always be ashamed that I didn't spend more time with him.