The Shirt

To say these last two months have been trying would be an understatement. But, these last two months really did fly by. So much so, that we didn't accomplish nearly as much as I had intended. Many days were spent just lounging and trying to wrap my head around the fact that I wouldn't be able to see John for over a year. Some days, I was out running errands, having play dates, dinner with friends, church, and everything in between to just help keep my mind occupied. Many years ago, 10 to be exact, I joined an online support forum for military girlfriends. I remember reading about how girlfriends, fiances, wives would stick a shirt that their husband had worn in a ziploc baggie and keep it sealed until they needed a reminder of him. Sounded pretty creeptastic to me, let's be honest, men don't always smell the greatest. But, I decided to participate and see just how this worked. On Friday night, netflix binging Private Practice, during an episode that was pretty emotional, I realized that I was beginning to forget things about John. You're likely thinking "How horrible" or "How could she". But, let me tell ya, when your life, for the last 2 months, has revolved around 2 small children, a teenager, and just attempting to maintain a level of normalcy, little things like how he smells escapes you. 

I wasn't sure what to expect. I'm pretty sure I was more concerned that the shirt would stink and I would start dry heaving. And, long ago I read articles that our sense of smell is the sense that is strongest for memory. I have experienced that in so many situations. Such as walking into hospitals, for years after my surgery and complications, I could not stand the smell of a hospital. Particularly the smell of hospital rooms, and the cleaners and the hand sanitizer they use. Walking into Eglin for every OB appt with the Littles was so difficult. They had the most disgusting smelling hand sanitizer. When you almost die, and you've been through something that traumatic, those scents are sometimes crippling. Every time I walk into a hospital, I would immediately flash back to that horrific time in our lives. But, then there are smells that remind me of Texas, of my momma's house, of my childhood. And, those are the memories I cherish. I had asked John to give me the shirt he had on the weekend before he left. I sealed it up in a gallon size storage bed, and slid it under the bed. I'm pretty sure he thought I had gone officially cray cray, as the Littles say. But, I wanted to see what the fuss was about 10 years ago when I thought it was pretty cray cray. 

I sat on the bed, ziploc bag in hand, I unzipped it, pulled it out and put it up to my face. Tears immediately welled up in my eyes. I seriously couldn't stop them. I just sat there, crying, and realizing just how much I had missed him. He took his body wash with him. I've obviously changed the sheets several times, and he's not here. I had forgotten. But, for those few moments, my heart was filled with every joyful memory of our past. The first time he took me to see the Atlantic ocean on my 30th birthday. The night he came with plane tickets to fly to WV so his uncle could marry us. The day he came home after a 25 hour shift and fell into my arms because of the case he'd worked was so heart wrenching and draining all he could do was lay there. The day he didn't recognize me at his homecoming from Afghanistan and he just kept walking. The days he cheered Caysen on the ball field and wrestling matches, that he'll miss every single one this year. The day we welcomed the Littles into this world. Memories that I visit occasionally, but in a flash all those treasured moments overwhelmed every fiber of my being. For the first time in a long time, I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I sobbed. I slid the shirt back in the bag, squished all the air out and sealed it. It's back under the bed.

It's just your basic grey graphic t-shirt. Just a shirt he'd lounge around the house in. But, for those few minutes, it was him, right here with me.