Its been about a month sine Steve died. It only seems to be getting harder. When it first happened , when I first got that call, I thought that was the worst feeling on earth. The immediate panic, and inability to grasp. My head started throbbing, and darkness enveloped the edges of my vision. I couldn’t believe it was happening, yet, somehow I knew it was true. a fucking terrible feeling that I would never wish upon my worst enemy.
As the week went on, the feeling was mainly surreal. I stayed busy enough with the funeral planning, and tying up all the loose ends that were left hanging; work and life. It wasn’t until after the service that I truly began to grasp the depth of his death, and that reality began to set in. Slowly, over the last few weeks, the feeling of surreal unbelieving started to fade away, and be replaced by a much more grim truth. I am just now starting to process the emotions, and face the fact that I will need to live the rest of my life without my brother. It is a steady increase in pain. Each day i think that , ‘this must be the worst of it’, yet, Im continually proven wrong. The day that follows is inevitably worse, as deeper pain weaves itself into my being.
They say God only gives us what we can handle. I’m not to sure about that one. In an instant, my life changed drastically, and I became responsible for 2 jobs, and the emotional and financial well-being of two families.I am truly working my hardest now, to fulfill me new responsibilities. Harder than i’ have ever worked in my life. I never had the motivation before. I am overwhelmed daily, and trying to cope. Trying to stay sober, and not reach for false comfort in a bottle or a pill. I long for the feelings that substances can bring, that of warmth, and security, but, I know deep down that feeling wears off, and delves deeper into the opposite direction. So, I stay as sober as I can, and pray for something to give.
I try not to feel sorry for myself, because I know it could be much worse, but, it’s hard not to. I don’t know where to go from here. I’m 35 years old, but, I feel like Im 10 again, when my father first left us. No direction, no guidance, no role model. Then, at least I had my brother. I am truly on my own now, and don’t know here I am going, or how ill get through.