Email to my brother and sister...

Thinking about sending the following email.  I don't to hurt them, but I need them and I don't think they realize.  I figured I'd vent here first and give myself time to think about this before pushing send.  I have great siblings, but they are fortunately clueless about the effects of loss of a child.
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I am probably going to regret sending this email if I end up pressing send.  My goal is not to make either of you feel guilty.  I’ve gone back and forth over the past few days about whether I should keep my mouth shut.  I’ve decided to go ahead and tell you because I know you both care.  I think you don’t realize that, just because eleven months have passed, things are not normal or better, and so it’s not ok for you to stop emailing or texting me even if I’m not immediately replying.  If I send this, it’s because I know I shouldn’t expect you to read my mind and I need to tell you how I’m feeling.Maybe I have done too good a job at hiding my daily pain and devastation at losing Jackson and you think life is going on sort of normally.  It’s not.  I work very hard at not going around with swollen eyes.  I work very hard to hide what I am feeling because telling strangers and coworkers and acquaintances that my son is dead and I feel like shit all the time in response to an innocent “how are you” or “have a good day,” isn’t productive.  It won’t make me feel any better and it will make them feel guilty and crappy.  So I put on a smile and pretend to be normal.  At the same time, the thought that someone might comment that I appear to be dealing with my loss well makes me incredibly angry because it minimizes everything I feel.  I also don’t talk to you guys about it directly.   We may be better at talking about feelings than Nana’s generation, but this is still our family dynamic.Yet, every single day,  when I am alone, I scream and cry and feel sick to my stomach when my mind goes to Jackson.  The only way I can get through the day is by staying so busy that I’m physically and mentally exhausted.  And then I take ambien to make sure I can quiet my mind and get some sleep.  Staying busy and taking sleeping pills keeps my mind from wandering too often to focusing on the fact that Jackson is dead, he’s always going to be dead, and that I am going to potentially live for years and he is going to be dead, and my life is broken forever.  I remind myself that my life is still “better” than that of millions of other people living in extreme poverty or abuse, or from parents who have lost multiple children.  Rationally, my mind accepts that, but it doesn’t affect how I feel and my pain.  I’m sure Lisa that you are thinking that I should go back to therapy.  But, losing a child is not something that is cured by therapy.  I did therapy and also a weekly parent’s loss group while in Anchorage.  It helped for a while to know that I’m not alone.  As my therapist acknowledged, I’m actually doing pretty well with my loss.  What I’m feeling and going through is normal.  I know I’ve pushed other family and friends away.  I can’t deal with them and may never be able to again.  Imagining big and small family gatherings in Eden and Piseco with everyone else’s happy families drive home my loss; my lack of Jackson, the hole that now exists in my life.  So I can’t go.  The only people I am comfortable around are Ken, Rachel, and the two of you.   Ken  and I are fortunate that losing Jackson has not weakened our marriage.  Rachel appears to be doing well, but I sense that she already feels extra pressure as our only child to call and check in on us.  She’s carrying her own loss of her brother and now this greater sense of responsibility for us.   I’m not writing this because I particularly want to talk about how I’m feeling with either of you.  Frankly, I don’t.  What I want is for you to keep in touch with me even if it’s hard to do in your busy lives  or if I’m not always very responsive.  I may not be able to talk on the phone every other day like I use to, but I need to hear from both of you.  It’s been two or three weeks since I’ve heard from either of you and that’s too long.