Memory & Loss in Scent - Civi Smith

     Like many people who have a sense of smell, I associate certain scents with certain people I hold close to me. My mom smells of the same shampoo she's used since I was a kid, my partner smells of his aerosol deodorant, and my grandpa smelled of Brut aftershave. Unlike the inherent, human smells that people have before perfuming themselves with their product of choice, the products that they would use don't stop existing once they're no longer around. Because the brain holds on to scents, it is very possible that you will remember the smell and associate it with that specific person for the rest of your life. Which makes loss impossibly difficult. 

    In the Aroma of Righteousness, I found the traditions of using perfumes and scented oils in the burial process to be especially poignant. Not only from a historical context, as scent would have been a large part of the preparation process in some cases simply to protect the olfactory senses of those preparing the burial, but from a personal one. Acts of love for someone continue long after they're gone, and anointing them with smells they may have enjoyed in life, or ones that may aid in the afterlife, is one of these many acts of love. Reading about these traditions became a personal reflection of what scents I would provide for the people I loved who had passed. I came to the conclusion that the favorite scents and foods of those loved ones could not be bottled or simulated, which is a bittersweet notion. If I could bottle the smell of an ice cream sundae, or turn the aroma of clam chowder simmering on the stove into an oil, I would in a heartbeat. 

"Grief is just love in a heavy coat."