little black cloud

I feel like I am waiting for the anvil to fall.

The emotions are bottled up -- the most ridiculous situations make me cry.  But I still can't cry for my brother, for my loss, for me...

My thoughts come in short phrases and sometimes single words: alone, gone, surreal, new normal, fear, monsters under the bed, heartache, heartbreak, empty.

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Someone told me the other day that I need a soul cast -- as in, if we put a cast on a broken limb to heal, then we also need a cast on our soul to heal from this kind of grief.  I am not sure how it works -- how to make the cast, or how to apply it ... but I am trying.

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Wednesday it was four weeks... four weeks... how does the time pass so quickly when it doesn't even seem real?  Why don't I feel "better"? What would that look like? Feel like?
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I say it aloud, my brother died ... and I always include how much time has passed... I don't know why. And I see the pain and disbelief in the face of others like a reflection of my soul.  I feel bad, like I shouldn't bring up this grief.   As though, by saying it, I open the wound for someone else.  Am I trying to convince myself that he is really gone?  I say it, and then I picture him in the coffin.  That wasn't him...  he was already gone.
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This is how my brain works right now ... in short spurts of ideas sometimes only tangentially related.