There are many supernatural experiences that I can talk about, however, the sweet and bitter encounters with death are the most significant, this life event always leaves lasting traces in me every time it appears. The strongest has been the the death of my dad. A man of art, cult, inventive, who a few meters away announced his presence with an immense smile, flowers, with colorful outfits. He always appeared with a poem in one pocket and candy in the other. We knew each other like nobody, even when we did not talk, we feel the other. We had a difficult relationship but full of charms, for him I was his greatest work of art, so much so that he never painted me. For him, death was another step, he did not fear it, and he always said: I'm leaving this world as I came, naked and suddenly.

A saturday morning, in May, he called to find gifts for mom, we shared all day, laughing and joking. First time in so much time we felt so good, without fighting and full of love. But internally, we both knew that something was happening. Suddenly, he stopped in the street saying: "baby I have to go!" I hugged him, answering: "remember that I love you very much!" With 2 huge smiles we turned backs and went away. 2 days later he called to give something crazy news, which I do not remember right now. Again, we said goodbye, with the promise of seeing each other soon. Other days passed and his smell of perfum enveloped me, but I did not give it much importance; until the fateful call came: "We have time without seeing your dad and a smell comes out of his apartment."

My heart froze, my senses were lost, I picked up what was necessary and went to his house, passing around by the usual place where he met his friends, and everyone said the same thing "we do not know about him since the day of the plastic artist", 11th May. With that phrase, I knew the inevitable, in a hurry and without waiting for more, I decided to go up to the apartment of my childhood, where he lived. Many people around me looked scared, others murmured with contemptuous looks. I only felt how the cold of fear ran through my body, as the pain of death danced around. I did not think, or articulate, when a wave of courage impelled me to climb the stairs of that building, where the most beautiful memories of my childhood, became in the most stormy stage of the moment that would change my life completely.

I reached the door, the same inner pulse stopped me, so, I could see everything around me for the last time, I could hear the murmurs of the people, the worried voice of my mother, and the breeze that froze my heart more; I turned the keys, I pushed the door and I could not get in, I felt a superhuman strength wrapped me, while I vanished to the ground, seeing his feet lay near by his painting studio and the smell of death spread all over the place, my heart warmed up and my senses returned with a scream that came from my insides:"yes he is dead, my dad died! Many the other cries came later until Idid not know about me. Shortly after I woke up in the furniture of a neighbor, next to my brother, the one with a face of terror as the questioner: and now? I ran my hand over his head and got up to go outside.

I was senseless, my lips trembled, my hands were as cold as the rest of the body, the mind wandered, I was not sure if it was a nightmare or reality and the smell of death was much closer. The all scene seemed a market, people everywhere, noise and sirens, someone approached and helped me to sit down, I did not who was, I do not remember either. I felt all eyes on me, while a policeman asked routine questions. At the end, the cell phone rang, it was a family member asking if it was true, every time I answered: "Yes, my dad died", my life moved a bit more together with the body. There were many hours , in mental distortion, without knowing what was happening, what the next step was . One of the most wonderful beings in my world was gone forever, at least physically. And, apparently only that characteristic odor of a dead person after 3 days combined with chlorine remained.

I was not allowed to go back up due to forensic issues; "The man died of a heart attack, when he fell, he hit the head, which caused him a concussion, he died immediately." That was how they officially gave us the new. I tried to process everything, when I remembered his words: "I'm leaving this world as I came, naked and suddenly, I sketched a smile and the smell of citrus and coffee of his usual perfume was approaching me, little by little, as an answer that he was there with me. I began to recompose and digest everything, when they asked us for permission to raise the coffin and take out the body, now everything was very real, so much that the heart hurt raw. I felt like the cold tears came out of me uncontrollably, but everything in my head was silent and I felt like I was slowly fainting once more but the smell of perfume and coffee supported me.

"Let's go down the coffin!" The forensics shouted, everybody like crazy murmured and moved from one side to another, while I wandered in my silences watching that scene, the reality reappeared with each sound of the coffin going down those stairs of the building of my childhood, where that man, my father, my art teacher and great friend was lying down, with each beat I felt my heart jumping stronger and stronger, without tears and a lot of mental silence. The smell of chloroform became more intense as he approached, but I did not feel him there, I kept seeing my dad in his window, waiting for me as always to go to eat. I turned my gaze up there, I do not know what I was looking for, until finally they took out the coffin and his citrus perfume with coffee came again to join me.

Since then, he is always with me, in every crucial moment that smell is present intensely, like saying: calm down, I am with you, everything will be fine. It has helped me to endure that loss, to trust more in me and to feel protected. I still do not get over it completely, maybe I will never do. And, every May, life makes me short of such a memory, but his aromatic presence soothes a lot. Today I continue his work in art in a different way, promulgating everything he taught me and when things become difficult, I close my eyes, I imagine him in his window and the perfume appears alone. After all I can say that death smells good and we are never really alone.