It's a clobbering experience. I didn't speak to her all that often; we exchanged e-mails, and sometimes a phone conversation, a couple of times a month. I saw her about once a year.
I drew a lot of comfort from knowing she was ticking away there in Florida, and now she's not any more. It's disconcerting, every day. Each time I pick up something of hers, life slows down and I get gloomy again. I spend more time thinking about her in her absence than I did when she was alive. If you were very close, I imagine the dislocation must be that much more intense.