Family weekend

Finally we made it to my parents' this weekend. I was pretty nervous on Friday about how it would go, how it would hit me again. As I wrote in a previous post it always seems as if everything is getting more real when I am there and can be at the grave, too. I dread this feeling and at the same time I long for it as a way to start understanding, to start believing this actually happened. However, this time it was different. There was no such thing as understanding or believing. I think on a day where all of us are together and there is still someone missing I might start feeling it more. The past few days we were - now - almost complete, only my youngest brother missing. And Alexander, of course. But with two gone it seems normal, it was so rare that we were all together except for special occasions. And on Saturday we were working hard in the garden which kept thoughts to a minimum.
When we went to the grave today it still did not make me believe that my brother, my brother is actually buried there. Too surreal. Since it is also my grandfather's grave I see him there. I cannot shed any tears when I am there which makes me feel bad then, too.
What feels good is to talk about him and to share where we are standing. This, of course, is not always possible. On Saturday morning I think I was simply overwhelmed with so many dear family members around, making the same kind of bad jokes as always. I was sad and so those comments did not settle well with me. But then they are there for you too and give you a hug when you can take it. This is family, and I love it. I wish Alexander would have seen this amazing gift here, too. Then again I feel like he did know, he did feel it somewhere deep down. There must be a reason he did not do this when he was in the city he was studying in, that he did come home for so many weekends before. He would have never acknowledged that but I hope he felt it. I hope that he still felt somewhere deep down how much we all loved him. I know I am repeating myself here but this is so important to me, so so important. I wish I would have a way to tell him again how much he means to me.
I am not sure whether I mentioned this before but Alexander's vision of things and life in general were strongly changed by his bipolar disorder. In addition to that he took drugs for many years which might be the reason for his changed personality compared to his childhood. Now his drug use was not the most extensive and he managed very well to hide it from us how much he was taking. He did not make it easy for us to try to help him. In his bad times he kept pushing his loved ones away, hurting them knowingly and deep down. He was smart enough to know what to say or do. We still stood by him, loved him and kept trying and trying to do the right thing to make him see what he did. To understand this I have to say that none of us knew of his diagnosis until after his death. He himself must have, according to diaries, known from at least March onwards. While I did know he had depressions I still mainly believed that it was his temper that made him act like that. Now I know it was his illness. You would not believe how sorry he felt once he realized, often many months later, how he had hurt you. When another person would have forgotten about it he started thinking about it. And in his manic phases he was the most amazing brother ever. Sooo charming, so good looking, such a warm, catching smile, so smart and clever.
I noticed today how I am starting to remember those good times more. I just miss him so much that I think I am not forgetting, but simply feeling the good times more. Probably a natural thing but still so different. Of course there comes the fact too that I do now know what I did not then, that his illness often made him behave in a way different to what he might have done otherwise.
I plan to say a bit more about his personalty and his manic depression at some point although not today. Today I am just glad that I have my family and my dear husband to go through this together with.