They smelled like the morgue in 2023

I think I dreamt of you last night.

It was a regular morning this morning.

After Dee went off to school, I was sitting on the couch having coffee, the radio was playing quietly in the background and I heard an advertisement that said something about a “strong cleaning smell” and I suddenly had this vivid memory of you coming towards me and me reaching for you and suddenly smelling an odor I had only smelled once before …

The day I said goodbye to you at the funeral home, the Director handed me back the cloth bag I had sent your final resting clothes in. Inside it was a heavier plastic bag that contained the clothes you had been wearing that morning.

She clasped my hand and said, “you might want to wash these, it doesn’t smell very good over there.” referring to the coroner’s office where you had been for your autopsy prior to being transferred to the funeral home.

As soon as I got home that day, I grabbed your pajama pants from the bag and inhaled deeply, desperate for any last scent of you. But they didn’t smell like you … they smelled like the morgue. Like death and stainless steel refrigerators.

I shoved your pants back into the bag with your shirt and even your socks that you hadn’t yet kicked off in your sleep that night. Back into the cloth bag, and shoved as far as I could reach into the back of the closet on the top shelf.

… and in that memory, as we reached for eachother, I smelled the morgue. You were wearing that shirt and jammie pants and I said to you, “oh Babes, you gotta change, those pants smell terrible.”

And you laughed and said, “ya, I know.”

And that is all I remember. It had to have been a dream last night. I haven’t touched those items in 5 months. I have no intention of pulling them out now.

Are you coming to me, Babes? Am I just not remembering? Are we both trying so hard to reach out that maybe … finally … a little bit?

I cleaned the house, changed bedding, did laundry, and just had a shower. I’m going to wear your cologne to bed tonight. I haven’t done that in almost 5 months, too.

There has to be a way, Babes. I’m here. I know you’re here too. I miss you so fucking much.