She’s gone. I can’t reach out and touch her. I can’t take her to our favorite restaurant and have a romantic meal with candles, music and quiet conversation. I can’t look into her eyes and see the hopes and dreams that lived there, so vivid and alive.
She’s gone. I can’t walk through the door and see her standing there waiting to greet me. I can’t see her smile that always warmed my heart. I can’t share my day with her and hear her laugh at some of the silly things I did. I can’t take her hand and walk through the park and watch the geese in the pond or sit on a bench and talk about nothing. I can’t sit by the fire and put my arm around her and feel love and comfort and coziness.
She’s gone. And I miss her so much.
I walk past her closet and smell the soft fragrance of her favorite perfume that lingers there. It triggers memories and fills me with nostalgia and a longing to have her in my arms just one more time. If only.
I step into the shower and her shower gel is still there and I lift the cap and breathe in the fragrance that always greeted me each morning. Her favorite body lotion is still on the counter and I can’t resist dabbing a small drop of it on my hand and letting it remain there for me to enjoy the fragrance and reminisce.
The last bouquet of her favorite flowers that I gave her on her birthday is still in the vase on the table. The flowers have dried but a faint fragrance is still present and reminds me of the memorable time we had celebrating her special day. How I wish there was another one to celebrate together. If only.
She’s gone. And I miss her so much. Somehow the fragrances keep her alive