progression

I cried. I cried and cried, ran out of tears, found more, and cried more. I'm so grateful my best friends were there, from elementary school up through college, and my boyfriend were there for me. I can't believe how much it hurt. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest, I couldn't breathe very well and I just had this pain...

I miss him. It's been 2 1/2 weeks. It doesn't seem real. After seeing his body, before the make up was put on, it was real. And it was real for the viewing. But the funeral didn't seem real... there was so much make up on him, and I just can't believe, or maybe I don't want to believe, that it was him that was buried. He was the youngest. He's not supposed to go first. I know it's him, I know he's dead, I know he's buried next to my grandfather, but it just doesn't seem right, or completely real.

I'm doing better now, I suppose. I'm back in NY, two states away. It seems like normal, not hearing from him nor about him, going on with my life, working and all that. Then it hits me. I pass a car accident. I see a kid that looks like him. Someone asks me about my family. Mom calls and is in tears. I wake up in the middle of the night with a strange dream, him in it. It hurts again. I feel like I should cry, but I can't. I feel wrong for not crying and spending most of my time as if nothing has happened. I still want to connect with people from my hometown so I know it's real, so I don't deny it, so I get those added memories before they too forget.

I know I won't forget. How can you forget a sibling that you shared so much with? I haven't gone through the stages of grief (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance). Denial, yes. Anger & Bargaining, no. That's silly. Though...maybe a touch of anger, not knowing how it happened (I'm a very detail-oriented person). Depression, maybe--does sitting around a house staring at the walls feeling like a part of you is missing count? Acceptance... hmm. I guess I feel like the whole "stages" thing is silly. I've felt guilty, and angry, but I was guilty and angry for feeling how I was feeling, not because I didn't talk to him more or because I was blaming him for doing this to us. I accepted long ago that he was going to live his life how he was going to, no matter what we said or did. He had fun. He loved and was loved by a wonderful girl. Isn't that what matters?