Angel Catcher

I have started the Angel Catcher journal. I saw it in a book store and it is a journal of sorts, except it has prompts.....My last conversation with you was.....
Your favorite ice cream was......You last read this book.......it is book of memories, designed to capture what is fresh in the memory before it fades to black. I only did a few pages. It was tough. I put the pen down and turn off the light. Lying back I stretch my arm out over to "your side" of the bed. It will always be your side, closest to the bathroom and the books, my side is closer to the window and the light. I lay my arm across the bed where your heart would be. It feels warm, the first time I feel rather than hear you (in my head). Swollen hot tears flow down my face. I don't dare move my hand to lose the connection I think I feel. I gaze out the window, I often leave the shutters open lately, so I can see the dawn when it comes. I miss you so so much. I am barely living, hanging on, I go to work and get the bills paid, the laundry done when it hits critical mass. It doesn't seem right that you aren't here, I don't want it, this single life, this one ness. I feel you now, I believe that your energy is here somehow, but I am not satisfied. I want you in 3 D. I want to hold you, kiss you goodnight, make love to you, all of that is lost. In a weird way I know why some poeple don't like creamion. There is nothing left of you. Your mom goes to you dad's grave. His body IS there. She also goes to your sister's grave, she is there. Where are you? In a marble box in the living room?, pieces of you in a small urn in the bedroom. Maybe I should have had you buried so I too would have a place to go. I went to my father's cometary a few times, but he was created and then buried, I didn't feel like he was there. Of course he wasn't there when he was alive---but that's another story.
The pain is fresh. It hurts like the the first few weeks. Masybe trying to remember is moving things around in my head and stirring up too much. Maybe I am doing too little or too much. What is right? What is wrong? It is so hard to know which away to turn. All i know that you dying is horribly wrong for you, for me and for the rest of our world, now my worls. Som empty with out you.