This is more a post for myself then for anyone else, so forgive me in advance. (Thank you.) What can I say about my grandfather? He took the role of my dad. He guided me through the tough times, taught me right from wrong, taught me that I should "stick with it no matter what, if it's really what I want". He was kind, loving, a bit set in his ways, always right, but still wouldn't have traded him out for anyone else. He's always been there for me and the rest of the family. He's been the one supporting my grandmother and I. (I lived a lot with them.) In 1999, they thought he had caner in the lungs. The biopsy they did showed that it was benign. Great yeah? Nope. They screwed him up pretty bad by botching the biopsy. His lungs leaked air. When he left, he had about 25% lung capacity as when he came he had full use. He still worked hard, tons of overtime, got up at five in the morning and came often home at seven. He didn't mind, he knew that it helped us. But it got worse. Each month that passed, he had more and more trouble breathing. On top of this, it was my alert grandmother who found out he was given medicine that contridicted each other, in otherwords, given several types of medicine that didn't go so well with each other. This messed him up even more. In the end of his working career, he became bed ridden. Each year, the doctors said they thought his time was up. And each time, he held up. He lived seven years longer then the doctors guessed. He held in there. He was a strong old guy. But a few weeks ago, he finally gave up. He slept in, didn't wake up. The worst part is, I haven't seen him for several years since I'm currently living and working in Scandinavia. This tears me up inside. And it hurts. I miss him, and I need his guidance. So Grandad, I miss you buddy. I love you and wish you were here.