I imagine I’ll let go of this at some point. It’s been 11 months since Jean passed. I have a stack of old silk scarves of Jean’s. I’m keeping them all together, just so, to retain her scent. The middle ones still have it.

An old small hardcase suitcase of hers keeps a few of her items stored. The beautiful scent of Jean is alive in that case. I keep it as-is. Holding on. I’m keeping it closed to protect her scent. I don’t want it to fade. For me, to use those few items in the little suitcase is to be willing to let go of her scent, her house smell. I’m not there. It means more to me to have that familiar memory with me. At times I will hold something of hers and breathe in deep her scent, letting her fill my memory.  And for extra safekeeping I even placed a few fabric items in a ziplock bag. Crazy? I am still holding on.

I have her simple black patent clutch. Nothing fancy, but the inside ticking cloth liner has a little of her scent. Last week I smelled it when I used a tissue that I’d kept in the bag. And for a minute, I considered not using the little purse so I could make sure to retain the scent.

How is it there is comfort in a smell?  I feel joy and a little connection to Jean when I get to have that familiar recall. And I’m ok holding onto this little “thing.”  It’s not little to me. It’s a piece of Jean. A piece of love.

Live. Breathe. Alive. blog- Here I write about life, love, my spiritual journey and what I am learning to help others. Using the voice I have.

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