Almost 13 months later..

I am having one of those nights. I don't have them often, but I need them every now and then. One of those nights where I need to listen to sad songs and go through old pictures. I look at the pictures of the first year of my daughter's life, and all I can think of is that my little brother was here then. I search through pictures, trying to find a glimpse of his shoe or his hand in them. He didn't like having his picture taken, so there are very few of him. But I try to find him, knowing that he might have been there, even if in the background. It's my way of catching parts of his day to day life and remembering different things he used to do.
The minute my brother passed away, a defense mechanism kicked in in my body that made it feel like he'd been gone for ages. So I have to have these nights to remember what it was like to have him here. If I remembered every day, I couldn't function. I couldn't be a mother to my daughter. So I push the memories of what it was like to grow up with such an amazing human being aside until I can be alone to deal with them.
If I thought it would make a difference, I'd rip up the dirt over his casket... just to hug him or touch him one more time. But he's not there. He lives in my heart and my memories. What's sad is that it's only been 13 months and already it's so hard to find him in those places.