He sees what little he can see, of her in the dimness of their shared room. While blankets and quilts adorn the corpse of a fallen woman, her hair blinds her eyes, too. No one has entertained themselves in the maneuver of lifting that disordered veil, from the vision that sees no longer. Life has left the form, and the spirit has left her. Here we see this man who has haunted himself in just one moment after her passing.
One moment in the haunt, to not move towards her, to see the eyes that may indeed still be open. To close the lids would be like closing the casket, folded over her body with as much grace as death could have of itself.