I will inevitably write more later or this weekend or soon, but we lost a truly great man last night. My grandfather, whom we called Pa, was a superhero to me and my cousins. I just got off the phone with my cousin Jordan and he said "he was superman."
Cancer took away this physical superhuman and in the last few years diminished him to a man who was hunched over and had trouble breathing. It was depressing, yet I always had this feeling like if he could just get through a certain amount of time, he would get back to the gym and somehow transform back.
A quick story - we were in Washington D.C. in probably about 2004 and were touring the Capitol. We were in the cafeteria having lunch and for some reason my cousin Scott, Jordan's brother, thought it was a good idea to arm wrestle Pa. At the time, Scott was a highly touted high school soccer player, strong and fit. Pa smoked him. Then he did it again. He had to be almost 70 years old at the time. Superhero.
That's the man we already miss. A man who helped foster my love for sports. Who would call me while watching the Yankee game and say "I'll catch up on what you're doing from your grandmother, but what do you think of (insert sports story here)." I'll still be talking to you Pa, cause I know you'll always be listening.