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.