01 April 2010

A powerful sense

Today I ventured into my husband's closet.

The first few days after he left I practically lived in his sweats. But as his scent faded, I stopped in an effort to pull myself together.  Since then I have avoided that area of our room, either in an effort to preserve it or in fear of how it might affect me emotionally.  Today, without thinking, I opened one of his drawers.

For that instant I honestly forgot he was gone. The scent tricked me into thinking it was a normal day and he would be coming home from work (his clothes are clean; it's just his "scent").  It's amazing the memories and feelings our sense of smell can trigger. I had to just bury my face in his clothes.
It was so bittersweet because on one end it made me feel like he was here, but on the other the realization that he wasn't hit me all over again. It sounds so weird because obviously I know he is deployed, but I still stood there distraught like I couldn’t believe it.  More likely I just wanted him to be there so bad.

I’m not sure what is better, trying not to think about things like that; avoiding his “stuff”…or surrounding myself with it to make me feel like he is there.
Regardless of what is better for me, I’m sure now I will be burying my face in his shirts frequently.


~Cheryl~ said...

I know how that is. I put a lot of his stuff that was around our room in his drawers because it was just a reminder to me that he is gone. :-( I can only take so much emotion. It was weird when I did the last load of laundry that had his clothes in it still. I knew that I wouldn't need to wash them for so long. Ironically, my son occasionally wears his clothes. I like that because then I do feel like he is still here. Great post!

Riding the Roller Coaster said...

Hello! I'm your newest follower after finding you on milblogging.com. Nice to meet you! We're gearing up for a deployment as well, and I'm contemplating hiding some of my husband's shirts under my bed for future sniffing reference. We all do it! Good luck.


Post a Comment