To become air

(This is for my friends and hospice teammates, as we grieve for our patients.)

Each day is a kiss
 with no response,
but I know, it's a kiss.
 Like the kisses you’ve sown
 into the walls, the windowsills
for forty one years,
 the way our children crackled laughter
 when they were children.

 Each day I give myself a task.
 I count how many kisses given
 And how many received.
 I say, “Sweetheart, how many kisses will you give me today?”
And in your silence, I write down
 a thousand.

 A thousand kisses to give me time.
to catch your last breath into my body
I will keep you
as I too, wait
to become air*.

(*When Breath Becomes Air, by Paul Kalanithi)