Fisherman's Prayer
I pray that I may live to fish
Unlit my dying day
and when it comes to my last cast.
I then most humbly pray:
When in the Lord's great landing net
And peacefully asleep
That in His mercy I be judged
Big enough to keep.
Two years ago today my family and I lost one of the most important people in our lives. I know for me he was one of the most important men to ever exist in my life. He was my grandfather. He lived a great life. Actually he lived an amazing life with ridiculous stories of tales and adventure. He also lived a very hard life, which included losing his children to various illnesses, spending time in prision for taking up for a friend, finances, the net ban, and hard times on the water.
He lived on the water for 90% of his life, the other 10% he was on the mainland, procuring my Grandmother to be his wife. He eventually talked her into eloping with him to Horseshoe Beach, which is really not a beach, more like a few houses sunken into the marsh. They were married in June by a judge at the local court house, who they had to borrow money from in order to buy the marriage license. He adored my grandmother especially in the latter part of his life. My grandmother has been sick for some time and every medical doctor has given her only a few months to live, well that was three years ago. She would often wake in the night with him standing over her asking God not to take her from him. Asking God to take him first, pleading with God, begging God, God heard him. My Grandmother on the other hand not so happy.....she is still here and longs to be with him. Be careful what you pray for. It may be more than you think you wanted.
My Grandfather lived his life on a couple of principals. Never tell on someone, no matter what they have done, it's not your place and you keep your mouth shut. "Never Rat" he would say. The other was to give. Give all that you have to those who need regardless of who they are. If you have more than you need you give it away, regardless if it's time, fish, produce from the garden or even a cup of coffee. He gave all that he had and managed to always have more than enough despite living below the poverty level.
I remember growing up being less than five years old, my grandparents would take me "across the tracks." They owned a fish house in town. At the end of the day what ever was left, they would put into bags and we would go and leave fish on peoples porches. People who did not have anything and that may have been all they had for that day. It was was my job to go and place the bags on the door, knock and leave and move on to the next house. He would do the same thing after hunting regardless if it was deer, turkey or even squirrl. (I know, I know squirrl).
The day of his funeral his friend got up to speak. He told stories of how just a month ago my grandfather came to his home straight from the water. He told his friend go get a bowl and get what you want out of the cooler, take it all if you need it. No matter how much anyone took Papa would always add more to your pile. His friend told us how if my Papa would not have stopped they were not sure if they would have eaten that night. He seemed to always know, you never had to ask.
To this day I have a difficult time cutting steak and even picking bones out of a fish. I never had to do it. Even as an adult he would do it for me and of course I let him. He would not accept gifts unless of course it was some type of food. Food he loved.
My Papa was at work, catching fish for a friend, fish that someone had ordered, fish that he was to get paid for. He came home, told my Granny he did not feel well. Papa refused to go to the doctor. He went less than a handful of times in his 91 years of life. She called 911, he was having a stroke. He was flown to the hospital. That was the first time he had ever be in the air. I rushed to Gainesville and that was the last time I would ever be able to really talk to my Papa. A few days later he was presented with the options to survive which included a nursing home and a feeding tube. He refused. By Monday he was back at home and died on Wedensday afternoon at 4:44pm.
At that same moment I knew before the phone rang. One of his best friends was on the water fishing at the time and knew as well, his brand new boat stopped working and he was stranded. He would have called my Papa to come and get him. He told me later that he thinks my Papa did that to him, since Papa never believed in buying a new boat.
He would leave watermelons on our porch during the summer, take us fishing in the fall, bring us stone crabs in the winter, cook us fish in the spring. It's been two years but it only feels like it's been a couple of days since he has been gone. Time is suppose to make things better but sometimes time is nothing more than time.
Johnnie Henry Osteen January 12, 1917-November 12, 2008.
