When I was 7, I used to walk my grandpa to his house. Once inside, he would hold my hands, gently touch my face, and always give me the same grape juice.
Years later, I was shocked to realize that he had been blind since he was 42 after a work accident. Touching my face was his way of showing love and imagining what I looked like, since he had never actually seen me. He was a kind man who always sang to me. He passed away soon after, and I wish I had known about his blindness so I could have taken better care of him.
