Missing Norm

Norman...not normal.  I don't guess I have ever known "normal."  Where life is concerned, that descriptor is best left as a setting on the washing machines...be they for the dishes or the clothes.  Norman was my maternal grandfather.  "Papa"...that's what we called him.  That's who he was. He's been in Heaven for almost twelve years.  That's a long time and it is true, time is a wonderful healer.  Most days, I don't hurt like I did in the weeks immediately following his death but lately, I've been acutely aware of how much I miss him.

What makes me miss him...

• The smells of motor oil and grease.  The smell of saw dust.  The smell of Aqua Net hairspray.  The smell of Vicks Salve (and you have to say "Vicks Salve" not just "Vicks").  Throw in the slightest hint of pickle vinegar and we could sell it as his self-named cologne!  (The back story to the fragrance is pretty simple...he was the parts manager for a local Ford dealership.  He was a mechanic.  He was a shade tree carpenter/contractor.  Granny would comb his hair, on Sunday mornings,  and then shellac it to his head with the Aqua Net.  What he did with his hair Monday - Saturday, I don't know.  He swore by Vicks Salve...for just about everything that ailed him.  And the pickle vinegar?  He and Granny made pickles every summer.  EVERY summer.  The brine...it lingers. )
• Broad shouldered, silver haired gentlemen...the ones who still wear ties to church because that's what you do. 
• Making fudge at Christmas.  He was the candy maker and you took your life into your own hands if you got in the way when he was making divinity.
• Bubbling pots of chili.
• Loaves of buttery, salty garlic bread to sop up those bubbling pots of chili.
• Rose colored sports coats on the aforementioned silver haired gentlemen.
• The cleft in Y1's chin...it's not as pronounced as some in the family, but it's there.  When he smiles, just so, it's there.  He got it from Papa.
• Binge watching "M*A*S*H" on Netflix.  Papa LOVED that show.  He though Maj. Burns was a "horse's batoot!"  I'm inclined to agree. 
• Old hymns.
• Kenny Rogers...think "Gambler" and "Lucille." 
• Tennessee Ernie Ford.
• The Statler Brothers.
• Old Ford trucks
• The bread and the grape juice that we have at The Lord's Supper and I realize that the words you find inscribed on many altar tables "Do This In Remembrance Of Me," have nothing to do with Papa.  He and Granny used to be in charge of making the bread and he used to bottle his own grape juice.  Sometimes he'd use that juice when preparing the table...always sipping it before filling the little glasses.  That home bottle juice had a nasty habit of turning and being the good, teetotaler congregation that we were, rowdy grape juice was a "no-no."
• Petunias...they were his favorite.  He had them spilling out of boxes that hung from the front porch and from anywhere else he could put a pot.  Of course, there was a good chance he'd end up surrendering the spot to Granny for "just one more rose bush."
• Offertory prayers from those same silver haired gentlemen.  Simple, genuine, poetic, humble yet bold. 
• The forthcoming gathering of the family.  He loved having all of us around, but there were a lot of us...he and Granny had five children...who married and had children...the house got crowded without a lot of effort.  He'd often slip out back to the shed...where the sounds of his power tools were more peaceful than the nattering and yammering of a bunch of cotton pickers.  Seriously, that's who we come from...Arkansas cotton pickers. 
• Words like "ding-dongs", "ding-a-lings", "pecker woods", and "jay birds."  That's how he often referred to the first wave of Grands.  We brought the silly and rambunctious like it was an Olympic event and those were his chosen terms of endearment annoyance. 
• Abbot and Costello movies.  Shirley Temple movies.  Mickey Rooney movies. 
• Classic TV shows like "Bonanza", "Wild, Wild West" and "Get Smart."
• Cider and donuts in the fall.
• Ice cream pedal carts...when I was a kid, there were pedal carts that came through the neighborhood, operated by hard working teenagers.  Papa kept spare change on his dresser, in a black leather caddy.  And it was ours for the spending. 
• Those "Bic Stic" ink pens...that's what he used at work...for his paper work and for making marks down the front of his shirt as he slid the pens into his shirt pocket...business end first.

According to Wikipedia...(I know, I know...not the most valid of sources, but I think we'll be okay with this)...the word is "saudade."  It's a Portuguese word and there is no direct English translation.

"It describes a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves.  Saudade was once described as "the love that remains" after someone is gone. Saudade is the recollection of feelings, experiences, places or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, well-being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again. It can be described as an emptiness, like someone (e.g., one's children, parents, sibling, grandparents, friends, pets) or something (e.g., places, things one used to do in childhood, or other activities performed in the past) that should be there in a particular moment is missing, and the individual feels this absence. It brings sad and happy feelings all together, sadness for missing and happiness for having experienced the feeling."

I don't know how to pronounce it...I don't speak Portuguese. However you pronounce it, the word is perfect.