"Twice I was robbed of my grief. For I had no right to feel it."

I sat on Bobby's front porch and watched as Dean worked on the Impala. Dean had been right I had picked a fight with dad the last time I saw him. Of course Dean would never know my anger at dad stemmed from dad having seemingly sat idolly by during the duration of Dean's fight between life and death. Nor would Dean ever know that as angry I'd been at dad I hadn't wanted to lose him. I just had been scared from almost having lost Dean. Looking back I understand dad knew that last temper flare I'd aimed at him in the end had been the last few remnants of that misdirected fear. That's why he hadn't wanted to fight in that moment, because he'd known and I'm thankful he'd known. But now Dean wouldn't know and I was alienated from my brother in a way I'd never been before because Dean wasn't going to let me explain or let me share the grief of dad's death. Twice I was robbed of being a son. For I had no right to a dad or a mom..