My arms are empty now, reaching out to the void 
hoping that he will fill my embrace.
Pretending that he is there when I close my eyes. 
Pretending that I feel his arms enclose me 
next to his beating heart.
Just to hear his heart one more time. 
Just one more time.
Please God.

To stroke his forehead as I often did. 
To feel his skin. 
To hold his hand. 
God, how I loved his hands. 
Strong and weathered, yet so gentle.
And his laugh... so contagious. 
And so was his grin. 
When he smiled so did I 
It was impossible not to.

His hair. The softest hair 
that slipped through my fingers like silk. 
Like baby hair.

His eyes. So dark. So beautiful. 
There was glee in his eyes. 
Like he knew a secret.
And he did.
The secret to loving life.

His arms so willing to hold anyone 
that needed love or
reassurance, be it a child, adult, 
or.. animal. 
He made it better.

That distinct shuffle when he walked down the hall.
And I always turned to look for him 
before he appeared at the door.  
I look for him still. 
I listen for the shuffle. 
I ache for it.

I listen for the sound of his car 
that means he is home.
But the car is parked waiting for him.
I listen for the voice inside me
telling me he is only minutes away. 
But it never comes.

I listen for his voice on the phone. 
That call..
several times a day, every day.  

I wait to say good-bye to him. 
I didn't know he was going to die. 
I would have given him my breath.