sorrow and grief

The life now cannot carry on alone, whithout that conscience somewhere located. It is just unthinkable. He was there, he must be there -for there was no other way to feel- a presence deep deep in me, and now all seems odd and in his wrong place. It seems like somone got up and says to me :"Uncle Scrooge is dead".Can't be.
It is grief and bewilderment in his upmost form: He is no more.