Grief surge

I was searching in the glove compartment of my car this morning and came across John's hairbrush. It was the one he used to keep in the console between the front seats in his car and after I donated his car I kept that momento in my car so that I would always have something of him with me. I had forgotten it was there and seeing it just grabbed me.
I took it out and held it. I looked it over very carefully. I could see hairs still imbedded in the bristles. Red hair. His hair. Reminders that he existed. That he held this brush that I now held. That it was close to him. That it touched him as I now touched it.
Words can't describe how I felt, what it meant to hold such an intimate possession of his.
And yes, I cried. It made me sad. Missing and mourning John is going to be a lifelong process. I know that. I accept that. It is never going to be okay.
I am able to go about my business. I accomplish things. I function.
But it will never be the same as it was. There will never be a person who holds me in his heart all day long the way John did. I will never mean to anyone else what I meant to him.
And I don't mean I want someone else. I don't.
John was Home to me, my constant in life. I carried his love and care in my heart with me no matter where I went and what I did. There was the constant comfort knowing he was alive in my world even when we were apart.
And now that is no more.
I know John is still with me. He has sent me signs just this week, just yesterday and I cherish those.
But it is not the same and I miss what we had.
My only comfort is knowing I will be with him again and then all this sadness will be over.