May 7, 2006 — age seventeen
(part of a look at the past)

It’s quiet around here today. The only thing I can hear is the sound of the lawn mower outside. It’s giving me time to relax and gather my thoughts.

Lately, I’ve been able to smell a familiar scent lingering in the air. It’s a faint smell, but it brings back so many memories. Whenever I used to hug Pawpaw, he always had a distinct smell about him–one that made me smile anytime I would smell it because I knew he was around. I haven’t been able to experience that scent since April 17, 2005. Lately, I’ve been able to smell it randomly. Today, while I was standing in my living room, just in one spot, I could smell it. Later, while I was at the grocery store, I could smell it once. I’m not even sure of the smell. Maybe it was the hairspray that he used to keep his hair so neatly groomed, or maybe it was the cologne he wore, or the spray-on deodorant he used. I don’t know. I just know that whenever I smell that scent, I miss him even more.

I remember any time I would see him coming down the long driveway that led to my grandparent’s home, I would run to the kitchen and fill his cup with unsweetened tea (his favorite) and I would set out his plate (that Granny had piled with food earlier and left in the oven to keep warm), along with his newspaper, right at his chair. He would always say, “Thanks, babe,” and I’d ask him how his day had gone. My pawpaw was a hardworking man, and he was so intelligent. He worked from from early morning to late at night, even when he was fifty-eight. He had gray hair, but his face seemed young at times, with hardly any wrinkles. He was the most handsome man I knew. When he smiled, you could see it in his yellow-green eyes.

My pawpaw was a quiet man, and he loved to see his grandchildren smile. I remember when I was younger, I’d walk around barefoot outside, but Pawpaw would always tell me to put socks on so that I wouldn’t get sick. He loved Granny like no other. I never once saw them argue, and when my granny got sick, he did everything for her. He was such a strong person, and before Granny passed away, she told me to take care of her “old man.” Her best friend. At her funeral, he sat next to me, and he placed his hand on my right knee. He cried, and that was really the first time I had ever seen him cry.

My sixteenth birthday was a few months after that, and I figured that everyone would’ve forgotten. When I woke up to go to school, I noticed a pink envelope sitting on the kitchen table with my name on it. Pink was my favorite color. Inside, there was a birthday card signed, “Love, Pawpaw” and I cried because he remembered.

He wasn’t a man that said much, but whenever he did say something, it always meant everything.

The day he died, I felt like my world had crashed down, once again. He had just come to visit us, and he wasn’t feeling well. We thought it was the flu, but Mom rushed him to the hospital because he could barely breathe. Soon after arriving, his heart stopped. The doctor called it congestive heart failure.

I don’t mind his scent lingering, faintly, in the air around me. It brings back the memories of one of the greatest men I’ve ever known…