In a way, I'm dreading the interment. It'll be the last thing we do; we've been through the waiting game, we've given him the best funeral we could and now it's the final thing we'll do for him. I have no idea what it's going to be like, when my grandad died I wasn't there when his ashes were buried at the crematorium. Kieran won't be buried there though - he'll be buried at the church we've gone to since before he was born; in their garden of remembrance. I find it fitting that he'll be there - he'll always be a part of our church, and he'll be close by when we're there too.
I miss him; not in the same way my parents do - he was their son, not their brother. I was his older sister and although I've been strong for the past two months, I think my walls are beginning to crumble. It's still so unreal that my brother has gone, what was 3 siblings is now 2, but I know that he's up there unaware of time going on. He won't be missing us; he'll be outside of time - somewhat like doctor who I guess; and he'd love that analogy.
I never know who I should tell about him. I'm still at a point where I don't like telling people - not because I don't want them to know but because I feel guilty for burdening them with it. I've joined the Christian Union at university and when getting to know people a question they often ask is: 'how many siblings do you have?' I respond two. I always will have two siblings, and I'll always be the middle child; I often don't explain that I have two but one isn't with us anymore. I don't want people to treat me differently because of Kieran's death and I don't want people to feel bad for asking such a normal question. They aren't to know what I've been through, and I'll tell people when I feel ready to.
I don't explain how he died or when either. If people want to know, I'm fine with them asking me; I won't cry about it and I'll tell them the facts. I recently told one person that I've met at the CU about it; he asked why I wasn't going to be at the meeting on Friday. However, I double checked that he wanted to know and that it wasn't a happy reason for missing it. I didn't even tell him outright; I'm too conscious of the fact that saying to someone 'my brother's dead' is harsh as they obviously are not going to expect it. So I meandered around the point until they got what I meant. And in a way, I do feel better that I've told someone at the church I go to in Aberystwyth. If my walls do break down, and the floodgates open whilst I'm at a service; someone will understand why without me having to explain it through my tears.
So Saturday is going to be a hard day for me and particularly for my parents. But I know that God will be there with us and I have my friends who will look out for me when I need them to.
