With this pain I feel…

With this pain I feel come many things. Alongside this pain, I feel the cold [cold is relative: 75º for you isn't cold]. Is it at the same time that I feel the heat of this thermal hooded jacket [which I bought today at Old Navy for $6.50, thank-you-very-much]. Coincidental this isn’t [very much planned]. What isn’t planned is the pain I am feeling. This excruciating pain. I lost my grandmother [father's side] this past July. As things are going, I do not see my grandfather [father's side] lasting past this next July. He is in pain. A World War II veteran with a large amount of stories told and to be told. Plenty life, he has had. With Abuela gone… he’s slowed down. Everything for him has become harrowing. He’s a man made of strengthened stainless steel [stronger than Superman; just because]. But he is in pain. His body fails him. He did not even recognize me twenty minutes ago, when I arrived at his house to stay a few days. This had never happened. [His age of 95 has hit him hard these past few months.] This man of steel has begun to tarnish; his luster almost gone. Seeing him walk through this house ["ejercitándome", he said… working out] in horrible pain, sitting in the rocking chair, looking down at the floor [as if calling to mind some events]. This all brought me down. I started writing this so I wouldn’t cry. I don’t think I will be able to hold back [I'll probably cry myself to sleep tonight]. I don’t want him to go [just like grandma] but when the time comes, he has to go [just like grandma]. I feel cold. I feel heat. I feel pain.