My house has been a damn shame since the (last) funeral. It is that much harder to get up and move. My grief counselor says that grieving takes precedence over the housework at the moment. I know I have to go through the process (again) but if you check the records I did this once before. Why the hell did this happen? Robert died in 2005. He was bi-polar schizophrenic. His suicide was still a total shock. You acknowledge the illness, you know that is real. Someone doesn't start having breakdowns and hallucenations for no good reason. It never crosses your mind even though you read the statistics that a suicide is even a possibility. Then it happens. People act a mess at the funeral, fingers are pointed, blame is assigned. Possessions are divided and you are sent back to your normal existance without having any idea how to handle the barage of emotions that come after. No one tells you how to support your spouse who doesn't speak for months. No one tells you how much your family and your relationship is going to change. Bad decisions are made in haste. Hey let's move back there, we have to have some sort of control over what happens to Little B. We have to make sure he is ok.
Then you lose all control because you never had it to begin with. Little B grows up and pushes you away with all of his might because he is 18 and will do whatever he damn well pleases. He never talks about Robert's death. He doesn't need to. No one knows what all he saw because Robert died at home. He never says. His relationship with his girlfriend falls apart. He dies the same way Robert did. He sent a text before he dies that tells the girl he had been thinking of doing this for a while and he loves her. Did he forget our number? A goodbye would have been nice. An "I love you" to hold on to us would have been appreciated. She is already dating someone else. I realize her life must go on to and I don't blame her for him being dead. But she could have done without giving him false hope. I don't know what she said before she left him that night, and in the end it really doesn't matter because he made the choice to leave.
All I want to do is cry and scream when I am alone. I don't like to be upset in front of my husband because I don't want to make it worse on him. But these boys were more than little brothers. They often resided in our home until we moved away. I feel guilty that we moved away. I feel sad mad scared everything. But I still have to live. So it is back to the housework I go...or maybe back to a nap.