Just the other day, we held hands
as we drove by the beach, past the sand.
Smiling, laughing, spending time
hand in hand, fingers intertwined.
Only days ago, or so it seems,
we talked about our hopes and dreams.
Laid out some plans for our future life.
Starring you, as my husband and I, as your wife.
Two weeks ago I dreamt that you had died.
Woke up, so grateful to find you alive.
I cried into your arms as you assured me you were here,
whispering comfort into my ear.
Last week you told me you weren't feeling well,
went to the hospital yet the doctors couldn't tell.
Although they performed a thorough inspection,
it was just too late by the time they found the infection.
Yesterday you passed away.
It happened so fast, no time to say
all the things I wanted to
No more hugs, no more kisses, no more...you.
Ten days later and it's hard to sleep.
Nights are long with no relief.
I hold your pillow close to my heart,
and wonder when the healing will start.
I dreamt of you again today,
cried in your arms and begged you to stay.
You held me and calmed me in my sleep.
You said, "Don't worry my love, you'll feel better next week".
Day by day, I pray for you,
constantly looking for things that I can still do
to add to your good deeds and to remember you, my friend.
Waiting for the day I get to hold your hand again.