Thanks, Cannabis, and Slipknot, for the kind words.

You know, Slipknot, I'm not trying to block out the grief itself or those emotions. I'm letting myself feel them and crying when I need to and doing my best to feel and acknowledge those emotions, and I did that while she was sick, too, because if I hadn't the feelings would have overwhelmed me, I think. But on most days right now, especially weekdays when I'm trying to focus in school and get back to my normal life, I do have to block out some of the images. I can't let the image of her in the last two days of her life, if you could call that period "life," come to the surface without dissolving into tears. And I can't think back right now on the image of her in the coffin at the funeral home. Or of the faces of my dad and my son, for instance, at the funeral. But I do let the sadness itself surface, and I think that's because it wasn't a traumatic loss in the same way your brother's was. I mean, sure it was traumatic to have her get desperately sick and die. But the death itself wasn't a surprise. I think that block-out response is completely normal and expected when it's a horrific, surprising death like your little brother's was.

When I used to work as a paramedic and saw the worst things in the world, which usually occurred as a result of drunk driving accidents, I had to block those sights and memories out in order to function. I also had to have some therapeutic help to deal with some of the worst of them. Most self-actualized fire-rescue people now routinely get that help if they work for a good department.