When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered· the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls· bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory" -Marcel Proust "The Remembrance of Things Past"(1)
There has long been thought a strong correlation between the sense of smell and memory. Step out into a cool Autumn day and you might instantly be transported to being a child coming home from school, shuffling your feet through fallen leaves releasing their earthy aroma. Science is still learning the hows and whys of this sense and it's links to safety and survival for us as a species. In loss, scent also plays a role. Most of us know the power and clarity of memories that are triggered by smell, some pleasant some not so much. The distinctive scent of a hospital floor might bring you face to face with death of your husband.
Some people report a strong olfactory experience as part of a "visit" from their loved one(s). One gentleman I knew would often smell honeysuckle, a favorite scent of his deceased wife, in the middle of winter while puttering about his home. Others report smelling their father's particular tobacco or cologne at times.
Other frequent experiences such as smelling a scent associated with the deceased, for example when opening a closet containing the loved one's belongings or stepping into a house that has been closed up, is a comfort for some but disturbing for others. Often, we do not know when we will be triggered by a smell and find we are caught off guard by our reactions to it.
Although sometimes overwhelming, perhaps these "grief attacks", may be viewed as loving messages from your loved one or as evidence of the cellular connection you shared and the enduring "immense, edifice of memory".
