When I was eight years old, that year, my grandmother passed away.,The grandfather would go and make a thin blanket for his grandmother, calculating the time to wake her up.,I will never forget, my once strong grandfather, with tears in his old eyes, sobbing and crying. He crouched for a long time beside Grandma's rocking chair. I will never forget my grandfather's hands, no longer young, tightly gripping Grandma's hand, which was gradually cooling and stiffening. At that moment, my grandfather cried like a child.。