I am conflicted, unlike any other time in my life. I look down at a little child I don’t even really know yet, but I know I love him. After only a moment of his tiny little hand grasping my finger I love him. I want him to grow up to be a happy, healthy young man. At the same time I know that I will not be the influence to him as my grandfather was to me. My grandfather played, went to movies, to museums, took us to the space center, American Airlines events, picnics, the zoo, he was an active healthy wonderful man who always had something fun planned for us. I cannot do those things anymore, I can barely make it home alive from work. I spend most days in a haze & medicated to kill the mind numbing pain that my wretched old body bestows on me. I can’t hold onto anything without dropping it, my wife has gone from plastic cups for me to ones with lids. How am I even going to hold that little boy knowing this? I do what I can, but I’m afraid it won’t be much. I will be like Grandmother & always be at home (behind the scenes) as LaRae does all of the fun stuff. It’s not where I wanted to be, but at least I can love him. I think that’s all that matters in the end.