Last week I got a call that my Grandpa had been sent to the ER for a bad case of pnuemonia. We all waited to hear the news and when the doctor said he was on medication for the sickness, we all felt relieved. But after 4 days in the hospital and no signs of any recovery they had to do an operation. The operation was a needle into the chest cavity to release the pressure. But when they released the pressure and tested the blood, it came back with large traces of cancer cells. At 85 there wasn't any operations that could be done that he would recover from and the pressure returned. So the doctors decided to give him the choice and he decided to just go peacefully. He was moved to the nearby Hospice center and recieved care there. His brothers flew up from Florida and spoke to him for quiet some time. The rest of the family got to say what they felt. Ever since, we have regularly visited him everyday. But as can be expected, it's only getting worse. The once strong Italian is now reduced to weezing and whispers. After WWII, the Korean War, multiple war injuries, 3 open heart surgeries, cancer removed from his liver, and loss of eyesight in his left eye, he had finally found something stronger. He is a veteran of 2 wars and a recipient of the Purple Heart. He was more of a father to me than my real father has ever tried to be. He always said "Paul, when you start racing, I'll come on up and watch you and cheer you on. Sound good Waldo?" (I got the nickname "Waldo" because I always ran and hid from my mom when I was a kid.) Today I went to see him and it was much, much worse. I didn't even know what to say and I mumbled out the only sentence I could think of. "Gramp, I'm growin' up." And I held up my grease stained hands and he gave me the same smile I've seen a million times before. But this time, it was a show of pride. I sure am going to miss that smile....