sorting through it all

(repost from April 15 on a different site, now shut down)

Well, I'm just trying to figure out what's been going on the last few months. I'll probably ramble into something from my recent past, but this shouldn't be too boring. I don't really care, because no one will read this for quite a while, hopefully.
Holly's brother committed suicide almost two months ago. I still don't know the answers: the whys, the hows, the if-onlys. I probably never will, but I want to help, I want to have the answers to these questions for Holly. She doesn't know how to grieve. I don't know how to help her grieve. It's something I have to let her do alone. She acts strong for everyone else, when everyone else had nowhere near the relationship with Kyle as Holly did. She puts on a face, and says, "I'm fine," without emotion. She's not fine. She needs to say, "I'm getting there," or "I'll be fine soon," .soon.
There she is. Crying. I want her to be able to bury her head into my chest and let it all out. The pain she feels I can only imagine. I'm not a stranger to coping with death. I am a stranger to losing my brother. I am a stranger to suicide. I am a stranger to this man that died. I don't know Kyle. I never did. Never will. I wish I could have known him, but I don't, and that means absolutely no knowledge of how to cope with this loss. Much less a suicide.
Holly, I don't have the answers. You can cry on me, and I'll hold you, but I have nothing for you except my physical presence. You have to figure this out. I cannot do this for you. I wish that it were possible that I could take your pain away. Your gigantic hole in your heart that will be there for the rest of your life. The guilt you feel. You shouldn't feel it. It's not your fault. It never was; never will be. Kyle is gone. I wish he was still here. I need you to know that I am still here. Here I am, take my hand, and we'll get through this. It's up to you and God, baby. I love you.I feel like I am a stone when she cries on me. I feel like I am emotionless for her emotion-filled grief. Just like Holly is strong for everyone else, I have to be the ground beneath her feet to keep her stable. When she cries, or begins to talk about Kyle, I don't necessarily zone out, I just sit there. I don't have much to say. I don't have ANY answers. It sucks, I hate it. I wish that I could give an answer, or an encouraging word. I've had the training to do so, I just don't know what to say in a time like this. I don't know how to handle death by suicide. It's insane. It's difficult. It's unfathomable to me. Something was wrong with Kyle, and I'll never know what it was. Neither will Holly, as much as she wishes should could've known.
But it's over now. That was then; this is now. We have to pick up and move on. I am all for mouring and grieving, but get it out! Don't hold it in. If you hold it in for too long, it can corrupt you and damage all that you hold dear. It can color your world in a darker tone. It's not your fault, and never will it be.
I don't know who I am writing to, but if it happens to be Holly, know that I love you, and that I am here for you no matter what. I am your man, you are my baby. As fragile as you are, I know it. I am fragile too, or once was. I am trying to figure out how I can return to being open and fragile again. You know me, but I have yet to figure myself out. I'm trying to understand how I am so caloused. I need to be softer, kinder, more loving and accepting. It's the only way I can be what I want to be.