Sometimes

Sometimes there's just not enough words, or no words in this language, to get the grief out. I sit in the chair he preferred, I look at the pictures of him, and I cry. I lay in his bed and I cry. I open his closet and I cry. There is not enough crying in this world to heal this pain. He's gone. He won't be back. No smile, no laugh, no flirting me into a Coke or talking me into a bath or putting on another t shirt when the one he had on was clean. I don't know, I don't understand. How do people go on like this? What am I supposed to do - trudging through the rest of my life always feeling his absence? Or what happens if I don't feel his absence anymore?