This is what it feels like to have your other half ripped away from you forever: imagine the loudest, shrillest, most horrified scream that you could ever hear; now have it go on forever. That is nowhere near close to what it feels like, but its on the right path. It is constant, unremitting pain; it is constant wishing for things to be other than they are; it is a constant replay in your head. Thoughts of your other half become your only thoughts. It runs like a loop in the back of your mind, at all times, in all places. You think you're going crazy because you can't stop thinking about them. And you are going crazy, how much depends on you.
He died on 11/15 of this year. It was not unexpected at all, but it came as a nasty shock anyway. It was a relatively short battle, from diagnosis to death- two months to the day. Two short months. We had realized and mostly accepted his imminent death several months before. We found we didn't have anything "special" to say to each other, because we always said those things right away, anyway. We started out with a pretty heavy handicap- 25 years between us, and no time to lose. We had always said so much so often, that we didn't have any parting special words to say. This was good, and made me happy, and made him happy, too.
One of the hardest things I have ever had to do was this: I had to sign and approve his DNR certificate. What were we going to do? Have them resuscitate him, only for him to die the next day anyway? He wanted this, I didn't really want it, but saw the need. But we didn't need it. He died in perfect control, as he had lived his life. His breathing and heartbeat stopped at exactly the same time, and that was it. How can a whole person end so quietly?