Slap in the face

Now most of you know that I lost my brother 4 1/2 years ago in a car accident.  It wasn't yesterday, wasn't today, and it wasn't last week, it was 1599 days ago.  Do I grieve his passing every day?  To be be honest some days I don't even think about it.  Or I should say that I don't allow myself to think about it.  But then there are days like today that just slap you in the face.  Slap you so hard you feel that you just received the call that there was an accident.  I look back at that day, and can play the first 20 minutes in pretty much slow motion, and with hardly any emotion.  The lack of emotion in the first 20 minutes of the play by play story is basically what happened I didn't have any emotion.  I didn't cry, I didn't scream, I remember standing outside that cold crisp February morning smoking looking at the sun rising in the east, watching the exhaust come from the passing cars, and thinking. . ."So this is what it is like".  Things were in slow motion.  Kim came over and was hugging me, and I remember thinking, "What is she saying, I hear words, but I don't understand".  I remember wanting to get ready for work, and Aaron telling me we had to go to my parent's.  The feeling of being pissed off because he wouldn't let me get ready for work.  I just wanted things to be normal and getting ready for work was normal for me.  If I close my eyes I can still smell and feel the coldness of the air, but not feeling cold on the outside.  Just hollow on the inside.  The next days were filled with tears, hugs, food, tears, wanting to scream if anyone else hugged me, cigarettes, and diet pepsi.  People bringing all sorts of food, and wondering why no one was bringing special k bars or diet pepsi.  I am not in that place anymore, and I can say that where I was 1599 days ago from where I am today is different, but there are days like today that just slap a person in the face.  It wasn't his birthday, or really any special day that we would have celebrated with him.  But to be honest it was just that, a day without him.  Yes I know that he is dead, I can say it 100 times and not feel anything when it comes to saying dead.  Because I don't think about what I am saying.  Last Tuesday night I was about ready to fall asleep, and was in that la la land sleep.  You know the stage right before I fall into a deep sleep and my body starts making noises no woman should ever make.  I remember thinking to myself, "Oh my God he really is dead", and I kept on saying that in my mind.  It honestly felt that my body tore in two.  That my left side and my right side parted, and there was a huge gap in the middle on where I wanted to fix it and make everything right.  I composed myself, didn't cry but felt hollow for the next how many minutes trying to calm myself so I didn't have an anxiety attack.  I remember grabbing both sides of my head and thinking to myself get a grip.  I am not really open about my emotions on Ryan's death.  Some family members are, and I respect that.  I am a private person on how I deal with certain things.  It's not that I don't care, but I don't cry because of a picture on the wall, or even a certain memory.  It just doesn't come out like it does for other people.  Should I have gone to therapy?  Well you tell me one person that at one point should not have gone to therapy.  I dealt with, and deal with Ryan's death the best that I can.  I miss him, but most of all I miss the family that I once had.  Now my family is pretty great now, but there is not a single good thing that came out of his death.  Or at least I haven't seen it yet.  At least with my stroke and brain surgery I finally feel good, I for the first time I actually feel good.  I have good days, and bad days, but I am happy with the results.  My own fate and life span has me thinking about my own death.  I have a fear of a messy house, and so I am kind of crazy about keeping my house clean.  It never dawned on me until today that the reason being is if something happened to me when I was gone and I died, I wouldn't want people to come to my house and see it messy.  How stupid is that?  Today opened up a wound that I didn't know was there.  I happened to relive 3 days of emotions after Ryan died, and I was not prepared at all.  I did go to Ryan's grave tonight, and I know that he wasn't there.  But I did see that a bird has shit on his head stone 3 times, and it is a old myth that it is good luck when a bird shits on someone's head.  So his headstone was shit on 3 times, so he must be lucky.  I wish that I would let go of the anger that I have, but it's really hard.  So tonight I am angry with my brother Ryan, and I am ashamed.  I often wonder if he knew how much I loved him, and how much pain we are all in since he died.  I don't want him dead, I want him here still.  I want to be able to call him and tell him about my truck, I want to call and tell him that Nolan shot another rabbit in the yard, ask him the most important question when is he coming home, but the truth is that he already there.