Watching Him Fade Away- Part One

I don't want to write this after he dies. I don't want this to be a piece of writing I'll read to remember him. I want to write this right now, while he's still alive. That way it will keep him in the present forever.
In one year I've changed my mind about him so much. My whole life I saw him as this funny stubborn old grandpa. He did what he wanted when he wanted, ignoring what my grandmother said. But this wasn't bad. It was funny.
I live with him since I was a baby. He's a big part of my life. He would serve warm chocolate on a plate and give it to me with a spoon while my grandmother made tight braids out of my hair. I think that's why I always associated sweet things with him and strict things with her. Now, things have changed. My grandmother keeps her strict reputation, but now, he produces a bittersweet feeling inside me.
I still remember that spoon full of chocolate tremble while he picked it up. He always had a problem with his trembling hands. I think he made a big effort not to spill the chocolate. It was different at lunch time. He would dip his spoon into the soup and spill most of it as it got to his mouth. My sister and I would secretly laugh at this. It was entertaining to see his hand tremble quickly from side to side, spilling everything as it moved towards his face. When his spoon touched the porcelain dish, it would make a tinkling sound, like a bell. He used to eat a lot. When my grandmother wasn't looking, my sister and I would give him what we didn't want to eat. He would smile mischievously and eat it.
He was the best grandpa for us. He would spoil us all the time, taking my cousin, sister and I to the park. Before we could leave, we always had to look for his lost cane. He was always losing it, getting frustrated all the time. It was usually hung in the window beside his desk, where a deck of cards and a smell of cigarettes always remained.
The walk to the park was nice. The clinking of the cane with the floor changed with time. First he used wooden canes. I loved them, so antique and nicely made. They never made a sound when they hit the ground. Lucas, our beagle would munch on them, leaving teeth marks. He then changed to a metal cane. I didn't like this one that much, but it was a lot more fun to play with. You could re adjust it's height, even though this always got him upset.
The wooden canes were forgotten by the adults. My cousin, sister and I would use the wooden canes when we went to the street. We took them for safety measures. We fantasized about hitting thieves with them while we walked. Three little girls with their grandfather's wooden canes. I bet we looked pretty ridiculous.
The metal cane made a huge amount of noise when it touched the floor. You knew when my grandfather was taking his daily walks around the house because of the sound of the cane. Step, cane. Step, cane. Through the kitchen, into the living room. The wooden tablets on the living room floor make a lot of noise. Step, cane. Step, cane. He walked through the hall, into the study room. The metal door knob of the study room door would make an unforgettable, trembling, metal noise when he closed it.

He went from those silent beautiful wooden canes, to the metal noisy one, to a quiet, depressing wheelchair. The cane is still around, but it doesn't make any noise anymore.