The last few weeks have just been a whirlwind of emotions. Isaac's funeral was beautiful. So many people showed up to support him. There were times when the sting of people thinking we aren't family were a bit much. I felt an incredible amount of anger when everyone who wasn't immediate family was asked to leave the viewing area so we could have a family prayer and the woman sitting behind me asked her husband, "Should we leave?" and he responded, "No, he's our nephew...we get to stay. Those people in front of us (which was me, Drake, my sister and my brother in law) are just friends." It took all of my self control to keep from turning around and saying something to them, but I just sat there, where I belonged, grieving the loss of my little brother with the rest of his family. The service was wonderful. His older sister gave a very nice eulogy, Taleisha's tribute was heartwrenching and so full of emotion and love, Jay gave a wonderful tribute and reminded us that we all need to continue living as Isaac would want us to and Katrina had us all in tears with her beautiful memories and intense love for Isaac. All in all, it went a lot better than I think many people expected, for which I'm extremely grateful. It was the service he deserved.

As for me, I've had such varied emotions through it all. When my mom first called and told me that Isaac had been killed, I didn't know how to react. It didn't seem real. It didn't seem like it could actually be true. These things happen to other people. I cried, because I was upset about what I was being told, but I felt as though it was unfair of me to cry to my mom because she was being strong and she was the one who was having to call everyone to tell them what had happened and it was her son who had been killed.

My friend called me to express her condolences. It felt wrong to cry to her. She barely knew him. She was hurting for me. I didn't want to make things harder for her because it wasn't her burden to bear.

Drake held me when I told him what had happened. He told me it was okay to cry. He told me it was okay to fall apart. He told me I didn't need to be strong in front of him. I couldn't do it. He was being strong for me. I felt as though it was unfair to ask him to be strong for me, but not be the same for him.

My kids all cried. They mourned the loss of their uncle. They grieved over the time they will never be able to spend with him. I had to be strong for them. I couldn't let them see me cry. The last thing I wanted was to give them another reason to be sad.

So, with all of that, when did I get a chance to fall apart? It came at the oddest times. I went to buy a pair of shoes to wear to the funeral. I had a dress, but didn't have a pair of shoes that matched. I was in an area that I didn't know very well. I got lost trying to find the shoe store. I cried. I finally found a different store and went and looked at shoes. I couldn't find a pair that I liked. I completely lost it in the store, sobbing because I couldn't find a pair of shoes to match my dress. I found a cute pair of shoes and decided to find a dress to match the shoes instead of finding a pair of shoes to match the dress I already had. I found a dress. It fit great, the shoes looked great with it. I then realized that my purse didn't match at all. I cried. I bought a new purse. I left the store. When I got to the car, I realized I had forgotten to buy a pair of sunglasses. I sat in the car and sobbed. I knew my crying had absolutely nothing to do with the dress, the shoes, the purse, or the sunglasses, but I felt like it was okay to cry over those things, but not over losing my little brother.

We were late getting out of the house for the funeral. It was a two hour drive. We hit traffic. I cried. I wasn't sure if we were going the right way. I blamed Drake. He had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I was unprepared and didn't know if I was going the right way. I knew we'd get there. I knew we had time. Still though, I was angry. I know the anger was misdirected, but it was okay to be angry at Drake over something that he had absolutely no control over, but not okay to be angry over the fact that my little brother was taken from us.

We got to the funeral. My little sister spoke. She stood up there, sobbing, grieving the loss of her brother, and I cried. Yet, I felt guilty for crying. I did my best to hold back. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't making anyone feel worse than they already were. I didn't want her to look down and see me crying.

Why do we feel the need to be strong? Why do we feel that it's our duty to make everyone else feel better when all we want to do is curl up in a ball, block everyone out and suffer in our own grief? Is it really better to put on a front than to allow ourselves to fully feel the emotions we're feeling? Why is it more acceptable to cry over a pair of shoes than it is to cry over the death of a loved one? Am I the only one who does this?