He has died, leaving a life in seeming stasis.
His body’s it-ness: weight, tactility, laboured breath - seems to transfer onto the bodies of all those with whom he lived. (Friendship is mourning).
His body is felt in the weight of grief (stop the clocks, put out the stars), in the regular rushes of familiarity: things we see, say, do, that are of him and our connection to him (for I am not gone).
To re-member is to re-configure our bodies to accommodate loss, and slowly; more in the order of phantom limbs than of prostheses …