My grandfather is looking dapper in a tuxedo on the edge of the sea. The water comes up to gently lap his ankles and he turns to smile at me. Then he takes an elegant demi-pas step and shifts his balance in a smooth way as if he were starting a solo dance routing on a soundstage. And as the water seeps into the sand below him, I can see the step become a twist, and the twist become a fall. And slowly, as the water rushes in and his body turns to meet it, he makes eye contact with me. I swim out into deep water to catch him but it takes several minutes before I can see well enough to pull him up from the bottom. I feel no guilt but am aware that my efforts have not been enough to save him from a death that did not have to happen the way it did.