And then I was crying. Out of absolutely nowhere. I suddenly literally collapsed against the wall because I was sobbing so hard I couldn't stand. I sat down on a stool that was nearby, doubled over, completely helpless against the wave of horror and loss that hit me. Jaden is dead.
My brother is dead and his body has been in the ground for months now. And I couldn't stop thinking about what would have happened to his physical body after months which is probably the worst thing to ever think about. And if you have never had somebody you love die you might not understand why I would allow myself these thoughts but you have to know that you think everything. It's not all "remember the good times" and flowers at gravestones and pouring one out for your homie. You think about the worst things too, like it or not.
It's not him anymore but it's still absolutely horrifying to realize that ... I can never say something so vulgar as "corpse" or even "remains" ...that's my fucking brother, not just some ...body. Never ever ever ever ever corpse.
It's so impossible to grasp that that's reality and there's nothing you can do about it. It's not the boy, the personality, the potential, the love we all knew, he is no more.
I don't know what I'm trying to say except my feelings are just as raw as they were in June. I've been better at putting them on a shelf is all that's different. I've had to say (out loud) to myself "Don't go there" when my thoughts turned in this direction in public, but yesterday I was there alone in the shop, so I cried. I said "NO no no no" because it's impossible to accept those thoughts I was having, of what's beside the secret notes and gifts we gave to the man to put in his casket, messages that we had to say, we had to give him things to go with him. But it's not him anymore.
Death is so hard.
And I feel stupid saying that because DUH OF COURSE IT IS IDIOT. But I always think I'm so emotionally stable and then I'm filling the entire room with my tears with no warning.
I never know if I'm acting appropriately. I see TV characters who cry and talk about missing their dead wives a year after she's gone and that seems completely normal to me but then I am crying at work just months after my brother is gone and I feel so weird and ashamed, like I should just get over it already.
And I feel like an imposter because I didn't live near him for so long, the last time we lived in the same house I was 17 and he was still a baby. I see how heartbroken my mom is. My sister. My brother. And I feel like they will think I don't have the right to have as many feelings as they do, which is so weird too, it's not a competition about who misses him more. I can't imagine living in the same home afterwards, expecting him to come around the corner any minute. His bedroom. So many reminders.
And of course I feel so guilty that I didn't get to know him better. We always got along and of course I visited when I could. Just last Christmas we had some good hang-outs with the "big kids", he was allowed to have a beer with us and we got our pictures taken together, all the siblings. We joked around together and he told me stories about video games. But I didn't know his friends, I didn't know how bad his seizures were getting. I didn't get to see him play hockey enough. I wasn't there in his life. I have to go home more often.
And then I read a blog post about somebody whose cat died five months ago and they're still crying about it and having all these feelings and I feel so angry like get over your fucking cat. Who cares about a cat? And that's not fair. I don't know.
I don't know what else to say right now and I'm fogging up my glasses.