Smells of Dan

Mint. Dan hated mint. I love mint. He hated it so much that he wouldn’t kiss me if I had eaten anything with mint. He hated mint so much that he would use children’s fruity toothpaste. Mint mochas are one of my favorites, and he hated them. But it wouldn’t stop him from bringing me one home from starbucks when I was having a hard day. It didn’t stop him from making me a homemade one and bringing it to me as I cuddled our daughter on the couch. I haven’t had a mint mocha since he died. They don’t appeal to me anymore.

Eggs. Dan loved eggs. He would eat eggs every single morning.  If we ran out of eggs it was a travesty in our house. We bought chickens for the soul purpose of him being able to have fresh eggs. I remember when I was pregnant and had terrible morning sickness and was very sensitive to smells. One day he made eggs just like he always did, except all of a sudden I couldn’t stand the smell and I started yelling at him “get that out of here. I am going to throw up get those out of here right now” He looked at me perplexed but obeyed and took himself and his eggs outside and stood at the window staring at me as he shoveled eggs into his mouth and I couldn’t help but laugh cause he just looked so ridiculous standing outside in the cold eating eggs and staring at me through the window. I don’t make eggs everyday anymore (it takes too much energy to make eggs, I am ridiculous), but occasionally I do. And that scene always replays in my mind when I do.

Steam. Steam from the bathroom. Dan was a morning person and I was not. He would always get up before me. He loved taking very very very hot showers. I would usually wake up to the smell of hot steam coming out of the bathroom. A flood of steam would envelope me when I would open the bathroom door to say good morning.  Steam.

Perfume. Not his perfume he didn’t wear any. My perfume. The perfume that I wore in high school. The perfume I had on when he fell in love with me. The perfume I wore on our wedding day. He loved it when I put on that perfume. I can feel his lips on my neck, smelling that perfume on me. Some time ago they stopped making that sent, and thus I didn’t wear it anymore. Last Christmas he somehow tracked down a bottle of it and bought it for me. What a flood of memories of our young love when I sprayed that perfume. I only had the chance to wear it a couple times before he died. And now I have a bottle of perfume that I will never wear again. I may spray it to remember. O how I wish he were here to smell it on me.

Lotion. Not just any lotion. Ahava lotion. In 2006 we took a lifetime dream trip to the holy land. Isreal. The smells there where so intense. So strong. So different from home. So beautiful. Ahava lotion made from the minerals in the Dead Sea captured the smell of Isreal perfectly. When we were there we bought several bottles of this lotion to last us. We both loved the smell. He loved it when I would put it on. I loved it when we laid in bed and he would put it on me. We of course ran out after awhile and it is exuberantly expensive in the states so we never bought any more. After he died I was/am on a mission to capture anything and everything that reminds me of him. And so I bought the exuberantly expensive lotion and I put it on and I think of us. I think of all the wonderful memories we had. And I miss him immensely. 

I wrote a book about my grief, you can read it here: Carry on Castle