There's never a day that goes by that I don't think about my wife, even after 16 years now(next month), some would expect me to be contemplating suicide yet I made a pact with her that I wouldn't as a promise to her. However, there's this odor, for lack of a more logical expression, that I can't ignore that seems to be coming from within me I can't get rid of. It's the same fragrance she had in her hair , it was so unique which led me to believe there was no shampoo nor anything else it could have come from. I haven't mentioned this others for concern of both being labeled as a nut/or concern of ridicule. But the smell appears to be coming from the very pores of my skin, although I never mentioned this to her, I labeled this 'the smell of death' since she became ill frequently in the ladder of her 35 years. Now this smell has somehow embedded itself in me, and I'm not in ill health at all beyond the norm of any other average person. Just to remind myself both of the memories of her and that the fragrance was still in me I wait for solitude to get a whiff of the pores of my hand late at night. I've changed so much, for the better (?) , since she's been gone though. In my common usage of the English grammar, dialect I 'used to' be like everyone else and go around making such statements as "you did a better job than your brother", "that's the best I've seen you do", etc. Yet now I've disciplined myself to change my whole dialect, these days I'm known to refrain from using such labels as "better", "much bigger", or "easier job than his", etc. In other words I've trained myself to refrain such labels that do nothing to build up the self-esteem of others, do nothing to make others feel good/or better about themselves . I have no idea where this idea came from , I do know that my wife always tried to instill this in me for what seemed the longest time.