I was contacted yesterday by my father who informed me that the nurse had given my Pa (Grandpa that is) only a few more hours to live. I left work and went to his house to pay him one last visit. It breaks your heart to see this man who has been a rough and tough cowboy, fall into the shadow of what can only be described as a mere deflated reflection of the man we all used to know. And it makes me wonder why death has to be so damn degrading. I mean is it like the ultimate final life lesson? You will learn to be degraded on a level you have never been degraded to before, and then you may die. And, I worry, does the confusion increase when you are in this state? Do you know that you are dying but don’t really understand all that’s going on around you? And if that is true are you trapped in your body unable, or to weak to say “hey I am really scared and freaking out here”? I don’t want my Pa to be scared. And then when family members break down and ball right in front of him it makes me want to grab them by the ears, pull them out of the room, and say “You freakin idiot, can he have at least a little peace of mind that we will be okay once he is gone? Can you not carry this dramatic scene on in another room?” Its selfishness. Why can’t we be thinking about how he feels instead of how we feel? I half feel like they are trying to prove that they must love him more because they are devastated more. Lamo! Anyway, I’d just like to say, that I love my Pa. And there is no other person on the planet that can look at me, give a subtle nod, say good job Tex, and literally push my self-esteem into another sphere, like my grandpa can. There is no replacing him people of the world, and I just think I should warn you that you are about to lose a hero and the most loyal friend anyone could ever have.