It's 2011. Ready to put the death and illness of 2010 behind me. Ready for a fresh start.
But then. The haunting continues. A couple of nights ago, I had my worst nightmare about Mike to date. In the dream, I was the one who found Mike's body, and then I was the one who had to call Mom and Dad to tell them what happened. He was lying on the ground in the woods. I saw him from a distance, but I knew he was dead, and was too frightened to go any closer. The image of his still body from my dream has haunted me ever since. I can't imagine how traumatized I would be if I'd seen his body with the rest of my family before he was cremated.
Sometimes the fact of my brother's suicide makes me feel physically ill, as though I will never be right again.
When is this acceptance thing supposed to happen?