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To Whom does this come

When bodies turn to ash and float in the wind
When whatever makes you, you follows
Floating.
You left your body, a hollow shell
Not you anymore
Just bones.
We couldn’t get your wife to leave your body
Couldn’t watch her grieve.
It sickened us the way she held your imposter
Which looked like you, but didn’t
Which was nothing anymore.
She pretended you were  still there
Unable to understand.
She stroked your cheek and touched your hair
She hugged you as if you had not left hours ago
Leaving your body with a final gasp.
I could almost see you there, above your body, 
Watching us cry, watching your wife as she clutched your corpse
Delaying reality, trying to collect you in the air, piece you back together
Put you back, bring you back.
I knew you were gone though,
I knew it months before you even left
Days before.
I acted as if each day was the last, 
Because it was
Because it could be.
Where are you now?
Are you gone?
Nothing but ashes that float in the wind
Are you elsewhere?
Somewhere just out of reach?
Are you in the park, where she goes to sit every Saturday
To be alone, to escape her house, to grieve, to fight, to cry, to laugh
To watch the weddings.
Are you there with her?
Or watching my father, your son as he trudges through daily life.
Are you watching me?
Are you reading this over my shoulder?
To whom do you come?
To whom does this letter arrive?
I’m sorry.
I’m not grieving enough.
I’m too happy
I go weeks without thinking.
I hope I told you enough how much I loved you.
There’s so much I never told you,
So much I never asked.
I’m dating someone,
Just so you know.
I never told you because I didn’t want to talk about it
Would you have cared? 
Should I have told you?
I’m happy.
I’m really happy.
I hope you know.

Copyright © The Ant | Year Posted 2024

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