I found this insightful comment about the death of someone you love in John Irvin's novel, A Prayer for Owen Meany. I took a few editorial liberties to make it fit my feelings for dealing with the loss of Paul. This guy seems to get it.

"When someone you love dies...you don't lose him all at once; you lose him in pieces over a long time - the way the mail stops coming, and his scent fades from the pillows and even the clothes in his closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of him that are gone. Just when the day comes - when there's a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that he's gone forever - there comes another day, and another specifically missing part."