He walked into my house one foot behind the other
He hugged me and I felt his arms grasp my back as though he had missed me
I grinned at the sweet smell of Hall's cough drops and strong black coffee radiating off of him
"I missed you Johnson. How have you been?" He said with his raspy, smoker's voice
"I'm good papaw," I'd always say.
We laughed so hard we snorted, because he was always cracking jokes
He asked me how I was doing in school, and let me know I get all of my intelligence from him
Then, all of a sudden, he was sick, and in the hospital
Then, in the blink of an eye, he was in heaven watching over me
Oh lord, do I miss him.
His hoarse voice.
His distinctive laugh.
His songs that he would play on his guitar and harmonica
His hugs.
His jokes.
His round glasses that he wore with only one leg, and ducked tape on the other side.
His Harley Davidson Motorcycle's jacket he always wore.
But most of all, him.
Happy Birthday in Heaven Papaw Jerry, Johnson really misses you.