Last night I pulled one of Cliff's t-shirts out of a pile of washed laundry, so that I could wear it to bed. Somehow, it had got into the clean stuff ... he had worn it, probably for a couple of hours and slung it on top of the pile, as was his habit, usually because he was doing a million things at once.
Scent is so evocative, isn't it? He didn't wear after-shave, so it smelt of HIM. I luxuriated in it, breathing him in deeply and actually smiled. That surprised me ... I thought, "uh-oh, here we go, I'm falling into a big session of wailing and sobbing and snot" ... but instead, it gave me a feeling of being completely safe and near to him again. Comfort rather than pain.
Yes, I wore it and had a fantastic night's sleep ... I didn't wake up once, no nightmares or sweats got through the invisible protective barrier of his scent and I THINK I don't regret wearing it now ... because it's losing him and smelling more like my shampoo.
Besides I have some other items of unwashed laundry (and his pillows), safely wrapped in plastic. JUST IN CASE.
Both my dogs gently stretched up and sniffed at the t-shirt, then walked off. Oh, to be a bloody dog, oblivious to this agony! They adjust so quickly, it's unreal.
The Van? (I hear you ask) ... hmmm, well I got together a bucket, damp rags, and empty carrier bags as well as a strong box to put stuff in, put it by the front door ready ... then promptly threw up IN the bucket. Perhaps I'm not quite ready to tackle that task. NOT YET.
This website was recommended on one of the blogs that I follow. I've had a brief look and some of it is quite useful, with some helpful links. It's a British website, run by a widow, so might complement the American site (on my links) that has become my "bible".