All that you will ever be

Sometimes the pain of grief is deepest,

When I cannot tell it,

Cannot express it.

The aching blots out every thought,

Defies all words and meaning,

Strikes me dumb with shock again,

Grasping for any trace of you.

I cannot hug your photos,

And feel your beating heart.

I cannot fill your vacant shoes,

And cannot let them go.

I hold your shirts to my face,

But your scent is no longer there.

I sort through stuffed animals,

You held so long ago,

But their eyes are dull,

Their fur grown cold,

Empty of comfort, empty of you.

I want to scream,

“He was here, he was here!”

I want to shout,

Shake each person I see,

And demand that they know you,

That they attest to your time here,

That you occupied space,

That you filled a chair.

It’s still not right,

That you are gone, that this love I feel,

For now and always,

I cannot find the words,

To capture with any semblance,

Of all that you were,

and all that you are,

And all that you will ever be.