She was gone.
She was gone, and that was that. Whether he liked it or not, it was the truth and he would have to accept it. There was no telling if it was some kind of a freak accident, or simply fate. But what's done is done, and that's all there is to it.
Simple as that.
Or, maybe more so, not simple at all.
Is death a simple thing? The concept can be mind boggling. One moment, you're here, the next, gone entirely. The outcome can be utterly painful, possibly more painful than death itself. Sadness will overcome the lives of friends and family. Sorrow, regret, despair – no, not so simple after all.
But she was gone. He had lost her. There was no more he could do.
And that feeling of losing something, something precious and wonderful, was a truly terrible feeling. Yes, he had lost something. And do you know what that something was? Love.
Love, I assume, is one of the worst things to lose, for I hear it's awfully hard to find again.
He did not find love again; he refused to look for it. He feared terribly that he may just lose it as he had before, and love is a terrible thing to lose. Never could he love the way he loved her. Have I gotten my point across? He loved her so much. And, from all that love, there was only one little thing left, and that little piece of love was named Nemo.