Left alone

It's February 14th 2013, Valentine's Day. It's been a year and four days since my only brother's death, and the second Valentine's Day without him. Although it has been a year that he is gone, I am still getting cards, messages, how are you? and etc. There are times when that's nice... I guess, and I know other's care and I am grateful for that! However, there comes a time when it gets to be a little much, and people grieve differently. I myself am one of those grievers who like to a lot of times be left alone, and take in all that's happened. I'm not the type to want to be smothered with cards, flowers, messages, phone calls, etc. I've never have really been the affectionate type from the time I was little. I always had a hard time saying I love you, giving hugs, and giving kisses, and I think to myself maybe that's why I feel Valentine's Day is so overrated at times. I know that not saying I love you always bother my sister Tara, and it was nothing toward her or anyone else's in my family. My mom knew I always had a hard time showing my affection, but she always knew in her heart that I loved her, my dad/dads, my siblings, and the rest of my family. It wasn't until my mom got sick that I started to use those words.... I love you! I mean, I've always told my husband and kids I loved them, but those were the only people I could say it to. Even now at times my daughter or husband will come over and hug me, and at times I tend to freeze up and not hug them back, at least the way they may want me to. I've always felt maybe it was because I was born sickly and always in and out of hospitals, and never knew if I was going to live from day to day. Why get attached to something or somebody, you may not wake up to see again, is what I've always thought. I know some may say that sounds selfish of me, and maybe it is, but those were always my feelings growing up sickly. I at times get messages on Facebook asking me how I am, and such, and I just think to myself.... I just want to be left alone. I lay in my bed every morning just walking down memory lane growing up with my brother and siblings. I see his face from baby, to toddler, to little boy, to young man, and that's all I want to see at the time. I see his smile the very last time I saw it, it was so bright and electrifying, a smile no other man in the bar that night. I lay there and hear his contagious laugh, and the sound of his voice from a distance, and that's all I want to do. I tend to do this for hours, and even a whole day. It may not be what some people should think I should be doing, but that's my way of spending time with him.... Silly, right? I thought after a year I would feel different then when my brother as first murdered, but I don't. It seems as if it's a pain that will never go away, and it is a death that will never leave your mind. Of all the painful things I went through in my life, losing my brother was the most painful.