Slowly, Abraham could feel himself start to lose his grip on himself like trying to carry water with only his hands. Some part of him hoped that Ciaran's arms could hold him together when he himself knew he was failing buy Abraham could feel it slipping through his fingers and in spite of his desperate attempts to keep his grip on himself sure, he dissipated into the winds. It was a struggle to pull himself back together enough to at least be a ghostly mist and he was barely any shape at all. It was... a heavy reminder that they would always have the Veil between them, the solid line that existed between the living and the dead.
"I thought of you every day." His voice was louder now, stronger, but disembodied and it sounded strange even to himself. It was the wateriness of it that sounded odd, and that was because his own tears would be tracking down his face if he had the body to make them. Abraham was ashamed, he was terrified, he was heartbroken. Glimmers of hope and happiness fluttered within the tumultuous storm of emotion inside him but they were frail and they were dim. "I selfishly depended on you to keep moving. I had— I had so many things I wanted to tell you when I came home."
Abraham's shaky voice finally gave way to a choked sob before cutting off completely, not wanting Ciaran to have to listen to it. He kept his arms wrapped around himself to hold his misty form together.