I think that only happens when the dying's bad. Even though I feel like speaking's bringing her leaving closer. 'But you won't be no ghost, huh, Mam?' I have to ask even though I know the telling hurts her. 'It's like walking through a door, Jojo.' Couldn't take seeing Pop walk around her without touching her cheek, without bending to kiss her on her neck.
Couldn't take her sitting in the kitchen, invisible. Didn't nothing come close to easing it until you came along.” Drove me blind, made me so crazy I couldn't speak. When Given died, I thought I'd drown in it. Smelled it when I made it home in the middle of the night, smelled it over the sour smell of the bayou and the salt smell of the sea, smelled it years later when I climbed into bed with Philomene, put my nose in your grandmother's neck, and breathed her in like the scent of her could wash the other away. Smelled it when I finally found his mama after weeks of searching, just so I could tell her Richie was dead and she could look at me with a stone face and shut the door on me. Smelled it the day they let me out on account I'd led the dog that caught and killed Richie. Smelled it when the warden told me I'd done good. They'd torn his throat out, hamstringed him. Smelled it when the warden and sergeant cam up on us, the dogs yipping and licking blood from they muzzles. Hold my hands up to my face, I can smell it under my skin. But that damn blood ain't never come out.
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