He Is Gone

He is gone, with two breaths, so far apart and strained, then with a whoosh, the air that was him touched my face.  He floated past yet remained.  I still feel him today.  There have been times when he is tenderly holding my hand and then I look and gasp, no fingers intertwined.  I watch the videos prepared by family and I bawl like a baby, I sob and moan.  I want him back, not possible.  It feels like someone beat me up, I hurt all over.  Then I am okay until I walk and find myself stumbling at times like a drunk, yet I have had nothing.  The world is different now muted and blurred, no lines of definition.  I blend in with the blur and linger there, hiding from everything.  Where are you my love?  I miss you so.