Sense Memories

     My weekend was filled with these kind of memories. While meeting with my son's therapist, I could have sworn I caught a whiff of his smell...that mixture of cologne, outside, and cigarettes that always hung around his person.  Not exactly unpleasant, but an odd smell to be in the office.  As quickly as I noticed it and pointed it out, it was gone. Friday, I finally got my memorial tattoo, a drawing that B did for me on our wedding anniversary.  It was unfinished, as he passed away before it could be completed.  The artist was kind enough to add sunflowers to the drawing, which were my wedding flowers.  Then, as I was sitting down in the chair, his favorite Jimmy Buffett song came on. Monday, I was gifted a photograph of sunflowers by the artist himself because I had such a strong connection to the photo...visually it took my breath away, and emotionally I was tied to it because he had taken the photo on my family's farm, in the sunflower field planted specifically for my wedding.  Sometimes these experiences happen in groups, sometimes they are a single, fleeting event.

Sometimes it is a song.
Sometimes it is a smell.
Seeing his favorite video game in a store.
Watching our favorite movie.
Seeing the same look in his sons' eyes that I used to see on him.
Running my hands over the brim of his most well-worn baseball cap.
Passing the street corner where he kissed me and told me I was beautiful.
Running across my wedding albums.
Going to the same fair with the kids where we had our very first date.

   These small, fleeting, insignificant things can dredge up memories so powerful that they can take my breath away.  The tears steal down my cheeks faster than I can stop them. Ive gotten better at controlling it, but not always.  Sometimes the memories will trigger a smirk or a laugh or a giant smile that is too hard to hide.  Even now, after 18 months, the emotions tied to my sense memories are incredible.  Positive or negative, the feelings that are dredged up let me know that no matter how far out I am, or how far I feel I have come in moving forward from the greatest loss in my life, there will always be that hole in my soul that will never ever quite be filled.