Nearly.

Dad just called, and instead of having the substandard conversation we usually do (ie "Hey. Make me some lunch, will you?" "[Groan] Fine, Dad." "Is your mom home?" "No." "Okay. [Click]"), we actually conversed like proper human beings. But instead of having a cheerful conversation, he told me that this morning, Gramps blood stopped flowing to his heart again. Last time this happened, a few months ago, he had to have surgery and almost didn't make it. My grandpa is a very outdoorsy man, if you haven't had the pleasure of seeing him working in my yard to know that, which most friends have. Well, he was outside and he almost lost consciousness. By some miracle, my father saw him and ran outside. My grandpa was standing at the edge of the pool, and, since our pool is broken and empty, he would have fallen right in. Right in. The fear of what could have happened should have me freaked out, but I'm just grateful he's okay. I'm just so grateful.

And that's why I find it impossible to be Atheist. No offense to anyone who is. I just... Look around and have to believe. (It was a small miracle. And because of it, I got to come home and tickle him until he giggled like a ten year old boy. I still have my gramps.)

I actually took a few portraits of him with my new old-skool manual a few days ago. I can't wait to see how they turn out.