Yeah. There's really no way to describe it to somebody who hasn't gone through a death in the family about what it feels like. There's just no words that do it justice. It's like on top of all the grief and numbness, there's this heavy feeling that totally screws you up. You find yourself doing dumb things like walking into the next room to talk to the person who died because they should still be there, like if you just walk to the corner of the room, you can find a way to talk to them. You spend weeks at the cemetary and find yourself going there at 3 a.m. just so you can have some privacy and let your emotions out without anybody seeing you.

Then there's the normal everyday stuff that wouldn't normally mean anything, but now it's just overwhelming. Like getting letters for that person and having to open them... going through their private possesions to make sure there's nothing embarrassing that somebody else might find... cancelling credit cards and other services and having to explain it to the person on the phone why.

Then there's the realization that the one person who understood you best and knew all your inside jokes and knew what you were thinking before you even said it, is now gone. And there's nobody to share that with anymore.
Now the funny stuff you would have laughed at together is just bittersweet and kinda sad.
Then there's the funeral and the priest talking about God and you just want to throw the bible at him and tell him to go screw himself because 'God' wouldn't have done something as mean as this.

Later on there's the sideways head tilt you get from people for the next few months (the 'hi, how are you?... are you doing ok? thing) and the looks from everybody off in the distance who you just know are saying 'he's the guy who's brother died'.
Then to top it off, all these people you thought were friends start avoiding you because of the stigma associated with the whole thing and a year later none of them come around anymore.