Remembering Papa Noble Harry...

They say "Old fishermen never die, they just smell that way." I really don't know who says that but I remember an old ashtray saying that at my grandparents house.

It has been 10 years to the day my grandfather passed away, and I even feel weird typing that for two reasons.

ONE: it is strange to think it has been that long especially seeing signs (memories) of him in everything.
TWO: because by saying MY grandfather seems so strange as well, because I share him with many of his grandchildren and he was so loved we had many arguments over who's Papa he was. So by saying he was only mine seems funny.

The thing with age comes the missing of many memories. If I knew I would forget simple things about my childhood I would have grasped on them more tightly as to never forget. I know I should have a trillion memories of simple times with Papa, but as I age they fade a bit. Mind you, I still have a good million of him to make me smile....it is the simple things I miss.

For example his laugh. He loved to laugh and make others. I remember the smell of his truck...a mixture of bait, cigarettes (before he quit), salt air, hard work and exhaust as only older trucks that were made to last had.

He hated Richard Simmonds...but loooooved his gossip rags the crazier the better! (enquirer lol)

I remember how all the girl grandchildren would fight...and I mean knock out-drag out fight over being Papa's girl. Especially the cousins closest in age...it would be war within 5 minutes of reuniting as I lived 5 hours away.

I remember his 'Donald Duck quacks", his stash of marshmallow bananas and strawberries hidden away from everyone but him and Papa's girls...his stash of pudding cups in his 'fishing cupboard' we would try to sneak. I remember even if a full plate of supper sat at the table I could always count on his support or sneakiness to take me to the table that held the containers of cookies and cakes Grammie made...pass me a handful and say "Now get, and don't tell anyone ya motha OR grandmotha".

He was a hard worker and always made hay when the sun shone. Always either fishing or doing something to prepare for fishing...going to the lake...doing something in the barn...or pretending to nap with his hat over his face.

I have one strong memory of him I love. I can still see him sitting in the old dining room, with his little radio on, in one hand with it pressed to his ear...head cocked...listening to the marine forecast with that scratchy voice, "...winds diminishing, chance of showers...". I would sit by his feet, cock my head and act like I knew what that man was talking about and wait for Papa to decide if there would be fishing the next day. Some days I turn the TV to that channel to hear that mans voice and remember.

Then there are smells. Yankee Candle Co. makes a scent called "Sage & Citrus" that smells exactly like the shaving cream he would use with the shaving brush when him and my Grammie were getting ready for a dance. She would come out and I would think how beautiful she looked...then Papa would walk out wearing a dress shirt with a 70's/80's small flower printed (almost like toile), his hair would be oiled back and he would smell like sage and citrus.

At other times I can go outside on a mild evening...the fog is rolling in, salt from the seas is floating in with the mist and the smell....the smell is the best smell in the world and it reminds me of him.

I could go on for hours about how this and that reminds me of him but for now I still like to keep some memories locked away to be shared with my kids and family later...speaking of my kids? They would have LOVED him, he would have taken them on the boat and taught them the ways to aggravate their mothers as only he could....the same as he would have been in his glory with all his great-grandchildren fighting over him as history will always repeat.

For now, I will not mourn our loss...but celebrate how truly honored we were to have such a great man in our lives for as long as we did...and I will wait to smell the air tonight and look up into the foggy night to see if I can see his eyes looking down at me, smiling underneath his crooked hat....giving a wave...and yelling "Hello 'der"....and I might have a hint that he thinks we're all doing ok.

I miss you Papa...you were a man who all your girls want our men to be like.
Love
A Papa's Gurl <3
 ps this Song is for you and of course I'll always sing THIS with you any day! * click on the words 'song' and "this" to hear.