Memory in a Bottle

What memory would you bottle up if you could?
This question runs through my mind like a forest fire. There are too many to pick. The one I would have to chose is the last time I spent time with my grandpa before he was diagnosed with cancer. Ever since he found out, the cancer just spread so fast. It went to his lungs, chest, neck, right shoulder bone, and in his face. He is so weak and fragile, I can't stand seeing him like that. The doctors only give him about a week now.

How often would I open it?
I would open it everyday. I would do anything to have the time back with him. Time flies, especially when you are losing someone so dear and close to your heart. The days grow shorter and minuets turn into seconds. If only I could relive that day.

Describe the memory and how it feels to uncork the bottle.
The Memory:
It was the last time I saw him healthy. We were fishing in my lake and just having a good time. Our whole family was over and him and my Uncle Rusty played guitar and sang songs. He is one of my best friends, the best grandpa in the world. Before he left that day, he said his right shoulder was hurting. He could barely lift it up.
The Feeling:
I would feel happy, excited, sad, and pain all at the same time. Happy because I get to see him and talk to him. Excited because I am always excited to see him, he brightens my day. Sad because I know I can no longer have those times with him. Pain because it hurts me to even think about losing him.

Another Memory I would Bottle up:
Sunday, September 23, 2012. I was visiting him in the hospital. He doesn't talk very much. I walked in crying and held his fragile hand. He opened his eyes and looked at me. Then he spoke, "Please don't cry baby girl, I'm going to be alright." It made me sob harder. Then he sung You Are My Sunshine and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I will never forget that voice of his. That has to be one of the most memorable moments of my life.