Unreality

It has now been ten weeks and four and 1/ 2 days, give or take a few hours, since JD died. I do not at this moment know how to explain what I'm feeling.
Its been getting harder and harder to go to bed to sleep. Just an hour ago I thought I could sleep. After all it was past three AM! And just as I was settling myself I unthinkingly reached out, as was my habit, to touch him, to just feel him sleeping there. I almost always stayed up later than he since his accident in 1992. And I would just touch him at night, taking comfort in his warmth and feeling safe and loved because he was there. I'd often reach over and kiss his shoulder as he lay sleeping with his back towards me.
Tonight I reached and he was not there. I lost it entirely. I began sobbing so hard. Then I got up and turned on the light as I could not deal with the darkness. Still sobbing I put on slippers, its a very cold night. The anger at being alone, the feeling that it is not right for him to be gone took me over and I began to pummel the bed with my fists whispering "no", "no", "no" as I did on the night when I got the hysterical call from our daughter. I cried so hard I began to choke and gasp for air.
So unbeautifully does nose run when you cry like this. There is no beauty in grief.
It is so empty, so very, very empty. Part of my soul has gone.
I got up and searched through his big stack of hats. I've gotten rid of most of his clothing and shoes but I still have almost all his western hats that he loved so well and looked so good wearing. I found two that still have traces of his scent and stood for a few minutes with my face buried in them. It must have looked ridiculous, had there been anyone to see.
Then I turned to the videos of our wonderful 2008 vacation. I have his voice, his laughter, his belches, his face and his body image captured there. I don't have enough. They're all so short! But I was recording the vacation and not him. After all we knew we had many years left to enjoy each other's company. We knew wrongly. When I took those videos we had only about 16 months left. It is not right.
He was such a good man. He had so many talents and so much knowledge to share. He shared so freely too. He was so very alive I still cannot believe him dead even though I held his cold hand, touched his cold face and watched them zip him up in that nasty black bag to take him away from me forever. I held our daughter and our sons as we cried for him. I heard so many of his friends tell of ways in which he changed their lives for the better. I threw his ashes on the river as he asked.
But it cannot be true. I cannot be just me when for so long I was half of us.
I turned the computer back on and played two games of solitaire, that mindless repetitive game that I used to play when he was watching something on TV that didn't interest me. That has two effects. It calms me with its repetitiveness and makes me feel as if any moment he will come in and want to go to bed so I'll have to turn off the computer and either join him or go into the other room to read.
He is not coming in to ask me to turn it off. He will not warm the bed so I'm not cold when I get in. I will not hear that soft snore that's all that was left after he had the sinus polyps removed. He will not laugh that now I am the one who wakes us up snoring. He won't come up behind me, put his head on my left shoulder and give me a little hug. He is gone and I am so lost.