Random day, in a random place.

This past Saturday I spent the day with my youngest daughter. We were searching for a change of scenery and as she puts it, some "retail therapy". We headed North to see the newest in Craft and Hobby stores in our area. I had been there on one other occasion, for my daughter it was all new. Since Marty and I  had sold our souls to the well drillers that week my opportunity for "retail therapy" was limited. I traveled all the aisles and when the urge to load a cart became too strong I decided to walk over to the adjoining thrift store to pass some time. I wandered all the aisles, picking up items for consideration, no real urge to buy, just passing time. I decided to sit down at the front of the store to watch for my daughter when she arrived and while I was sitting there a teenage couple walked in. The entire store was full of average looking people, I am not sure if it is a sign of the times or if everyone appreciates a good bargain, this young couple simply looked like everyone else. The young man saw me sitting there and then in the way teenage boys brag he turned to the girl and this is what I heard him say "I hate this smell, it smells like old people". I don't think he was referring to me, or maybe he was, what I think he was doing was making a show of how he wanted me to think he really didn't belong there, he was merely there for the "experience".

Then there is this: There is a theory in the medical field that the sense of hearing is the last sense to leave at the end of life. When I was a nursing student and later when I worked in the field we were routinely cautioned that our words and the things we talked about could be heard even by those who no longer appeared to hear. There apparently is medical evidence to support this statement although how it was ever measured is a mystery. I have seen this question posed and also been asked the question if you had to lose your hearing or your eyesight, which would you choose?
The answer for me would be either, it is my feeling we are most defined by our sense of smell. Everyone has one, all our homes do too. I could blind-fold myself and tell you, no question, if I was in the homes of my daughters, my Parents, my sisters and brothers or here, in Mike's house that I now call home. I have lived here for six years and I worry that the smell that is Marty and I, is going to cover the smell that was and is Mike.
When my Maternal Grandmother died, I was there. I was in a place most would recognize by the smell. She was the resident of a Nursing Home and therefore a prisoner of the smells of a place that I never associated with my Grandparents. On the day she died due to timing that can't be measured, or coincidence that can't be planned, I was there. I had traveled 140 miles, stopped in as a last minute thought before heading to where I was going. Within 30 minutes of my arrival I was holding my grandmother in my arms and whispering in her ear. I told her all the things I prayed she could hear, I banked everything I had on what I had been taught, that her hearing was the last to go. What she gave me back was the sense of smell. When I ran out of words I buried my nose as deep as I could into her neck, it was there that I smelled all I remembered of my grandparents. Lemon drops and fresh mowed grass, I smelled my past, I smelled my present, I lost her as my future.
A couple of years ago, my Dad lay down his pipe. My Dad has been a pipe smoker for as many years as I have been alive. On a random comment from someone that thought they knew what they don't know, my Dad quit smoking. I know this should be a good thing, I understand the strength it took for my dad to walk away from a lifetime habit, but I miss it. I miss it because it wasn't just who my Dad was, it was who I was. It was the smell of home.
I have worn the same perfume for 10 years. When my oldest grand-daughter was born it was the fragrance I wore, I have never changed it. It is who I am. It is the smell the four smallest people in my life recognize me by. When my Grand-son was almost three, he took a trip with his Dad. He was gone for 10 days, ten long days in a time when everything was wrong. On the day he returned we were all gathered for a party. My daughter went and got her son and brought him into the garage where we were gathered. My grand-son said "Nannie" and then he breathed in deep. Someone made a joke and said "Is he trying to smell for her?" The truth is, that is exactly what he was doing. At two years old and faced with a garage full of people my Grandson realized the fastest way to find what you are looking for is to breathe deep.

This is what I know: None of us will know what is the last sense to go, until we experience it for ourselves. If it's hearing it breaks my heart to know I wasn't there to tell Mike everything I wanted him to know. I would have liked his eyes to see all of us that he loved so well. I would like to have held him so he would know my touch would never let go. It is my hope that it was smell that carried him where he was going. The smell of wind and cold and the outdoors. The smell of his dream truck idling diesel and country music playing on the radio. He did not die inside, for that I am grateful.
Mikes house still smells like Mike. Mikes truck still smells like Mike. I do the everyday, I try for normal. I listen, I see, I touch. On the days when I can do no more, I go to the basement and on a hook by the wood stove hang the woolen bibs Mike wore to cut firewood. I reach out for them and bury my face and breathe deep to find what I'm looking for.
That young teenage kid made a random comment that I think he thought made him look cool, or maybe better than or maybe to show he really didn't belong in that place. The truth is what he smelled was a thousand lives. Someones truth. The identification of people he will never know. There will be much you remember in life. You will remember words that were heard and can't be replaced. You will remember things you have seen and can't be replaced. You will remember the touch and taste of many things, things you think define your life. But it is the sense of smell that will most define your memory. On a random day, in a random place you will turn quickly completely sure that you will see what in reality you can only smell. The people we love remain close due to something we give no thought to while alive. It is unique, it is our imprint, it is the gift we leave behind.

till next time.