When I was 14 my Father died, after a long and drawn out battle with emphysema. The day of his death he was in Hospital and my mother and I received a call from the Hospital to say he had died. Within 1/2 an hour they had called back and said he had been revived & for my mother to come to the Hospital. 20 minutes later they called again to say he had finally succumbed.
My mother was very upset by all this, and that night I slept in her bed to offer some small comfort. At about 3pm in the morning Mum and I both awoke to an overpowering smell of old spice after shave (this, was the only brand my Dad would use...sad!) we both made comment and drifted back to sleep. The next morning when we awoke Dads bottle of Old Spice was sitting on the bedroom floor. This was a tad weird as the bottle had been in Dads locked bedside cabinet and it was still locked.
Mum and I feel it was dads last goodbye to us both - but I feel he is watching me always.