My Grandpa Walter is dying.  Well that's what all the doctors say.  His kidneys are failing, he has lung cancer, and his blood pressure has been dropping.  His sight is almost gone, his hearing is crap, he is trapped and isolated in this once strong body.

Obviously the doctors didn't ask GW what he thought about this dying business.  Because even though we were told it was a matter of maybe two days... he's still fighting.

But that's who he is.

He was an orphan by the age of 11, and then bounced from family member to family member.  Even with that, he managed to enroll in junior college before entering the War.

He's buried a wife, an infant son, and three grown daughters. 

He asked last night, "Why am I still here?"

I have to think he's been wondering that for awhile.