Neoprene and Salt

Neoprene and salt
Today I was thinking. I thought about how beautiful the ocean looked as it crashed against the rocks I was sitting on, and how the foam created by the impact of the waves made me feel so nostalgic. As I smelt the traces of sea salt in the air whilst my hair blew into my face getting annoyingly stuck to the balm on my lips and in between my eyelashes, I felt like he was right there beside me and I suddenly felt a sense of comfort, I felt warm.
There are five senses. Sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell. My friends and I had a debate the other day. Which out of the five could you not live without? Everyone debated a different one for a different reason. I never thought about it much until this day, and now I can't stop thinking about it because I didn't realize how much being able to smell has redirected my life.
Grieving a parent at a young age is something nobody should have to do. But unfortunately, at the age of nine, I lost my best friend, my dad, to a tragic cave-diving incident. Now at nineteen, a decade has passed, and memories have faded. I can look at the old photos I have of him stuck to my wall, I can remind myself of his voice in the one video I have of him saved onto my phone, I can cuddle the teddy bear he got me at night before I go to sleep, and I can eat his favorite food for dinner, but I can't go back to the past and relive these moments with him. However, there is one thing that will be stuck with me forever, his scent.
In my childhood home, we had this very modern-looking white shed built onto the side of our house. Inside, my dad kept all his diving gear. I would often go in there when he was hanging up his wetsuits or packing his bags for his next diving trip or I'd snoop around when he was away diving for weeks at a time because I missed him, and the shed smelt like him. A thick scent of neoprene and salt. At the time, I didn't associate this smell with his diving gear I can remember being sure that this was my dad's cologne.
His passing hit me the most when I was a teenager, and I finally understood what death meant. I started to accept that I would never see him again. I would get angry at the world and him. The excitement of growing up and achieving things like getting my GCSE and A level results and then going on to study something I am ambitious about at University soon wore off when I remembered that he is not here to say well done. I would find myself getting annoyed if I was going through a hard time and he wasn't here to hug me or even tell me to 'grow a pair' if he thought I was being dramatic. I wanted him to be here to do things that most children understandably take for granted. But he couldn't be here for those things, and there are still so many things that he is not going to be here for. But as I've grown up, I have had to learn to live with that. And although he can't be here physically, the ocean, which covers 71% of the earth's surface, makes me feel closer to him. Neoprene and salt.
How did neoprene and salt redirect my life? When someone you love dies, you cling to anything that reminds you of them naturally. In August of 2023, I was having a few tough weeks missing Dad. I had just gotten my A-level results, and I was proud of myself, and I knew that if he saw my grades he would also be proud. I also knew that he would want me to put these grades to good use - so I did. I moved five hours away from home very spontaneously to study what I loved in the comfort of the ocean, in the comfort of neoprene and salt.
For years, neoprene and salt reminded me of what I lost but now they remind me of what I have.