I always knew it would happen. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon.

My 93-year-old grandpa, a rascal man who once crashed a high school prom in Kona and made the best tripe stew on the island, is slipping away.

He grew up in the coffee fields of Honaunau, the son of issei parents who, like many immigrants, came to Hawai'i for a chance at a better life.

But nothing can prevent the inevitable: someday, if you live long enough, your body and mind will grow weak and you won't be the same person to the people you slowly forget.

My grandpa has been slowing down for years. In fact, it's hard to imagine him playing baseball or running a lunch wagon. But the memories, though hazy, are still there.

I remember eagerly awaiting his visits, hoping he'd bring me one of those chocolate-covered cake doughnuts I still savor, even now.

I remember going with my grandparents to the bowling alley, a roll of quarters tucked into my pocket.

I remember the watermelons he used to grow, his blue Toyota Corolla station wagon, his stories about fishing in Kona, his manju.

Now I wish he remembered all that, too.

I know he's lived a long and full life. He's been married to his childhood sweetheart for more than six decades, raising three children, and spoiling seven grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

He's picked fruit in Lodi, Calif., gambled in Las Vegas, worked as a bartender in Waikiki, and delivered milk for Meadow Gold.

But listing everything he's done, every home he's lived in, every person he's touched, doesn't ease the pain of seeing him lying in a hospital bed, frail but smiling, confused about where he is and who we are.

It's been the first time my grandma, 90, has been at home without him. And even though, in these past few years, he hasn't been able to get around as easily as before, he was still there, sitting in his favorite chair.

I can't imagine what it must be like for my mom to see her parents — once strong, active and independent — succumb to age. And it scares me to think that someday my own parents will get weak and need help.

We don't want to think about it, but we should. No one lives forever. And I feel so fortunate to have had these many years with my grandparents.

So while I know the inevitable will happen, at least I can find comfort in that. Because not everyone is so lucky.

Reach Catherine E. Toth at ctoth@honoluluadvertiser.com. Read her daily blog at blogs.honoluluadvertiser.com.