Some things that you realize after the death of a parent (especially one you're dear to).
1) It's never as bad as it seems it is.
There is an early reconciliatory period where everything is a daze as to prevent the feeling from sinking in (so that you don't actually realize how bad it is and harm yourself or something). But once that passes, it's a slow sinking feeling all the way down to Davy Jones' locker.
Having folks around you is a great help, but at the end of the day, it's one's own battle.
2) The grief is always personal.
Support from friends is fine, but never expect anybody to understand what you're going through.
I found myself distanced from most of them (despite trying to do all the normal things and putting up a brave face) and constantly annoyed at being so superficial about what I've lost. But on second thoughts,it's not hard to realize that specific to their standpoint, they're probably trying to do their best to stand by you. It's not fair to expect shoulders to cry on to be as comfortable as your pillow.
Family is a different ball-game altogether. The grief is personal as it is mutual - it varies in it's own verticals specifically to how each person related to the deceased. It's not fair to expect too much from people who are distressed in their own ways.
3) Feeling grown up.
If you've been brought up with a little too much love, it's an undesirable transition to a stage of adulthood that you wouldn't have wished for.
There're milestones to adulthood - temporal ones - education, graduation, work, as there are personal ones - marriage, children and more. Somewhere there is one about losing a parent too, and it's an eye-opener from the cocoons of love. It's a rude awakening that you've permanently lost somebody who cared for you, unconditionally (well, almost).
It's an inevitable experience in life (if you live long enough) and probably the one toughest to digest.
4) The balloon expands.
This might not be generic, but it's not hard to find yourself atleast somewhat distanced from the closest people of your family, especially so if your parent played the glue role in the house.
If you're married, it's perhaps for the good since your sub-family provides you the necessary support system over the ex(tended) family you had. Change, I guess, is inevitable.
Infinite recursions of the good past (or the bad, depending on things). In death, there's always the baggage of regret and it's much harder to lose it than your favorite airliner could have ever.
Several biases of para-reasoned confirmations creep in that one missed obvious signs of what occurred (before it did) and how that could've helped reduce the aforementioned regrets. We live in a selfish world and that's just as real as the uncertainty of death. We aren't be beyond our mere humanity, are we?
Far too much literature I've read depicts life changing events as sharp and distinct state transitions. My experience with these things is definitely marked for latent, profound confusion.
Introspection breeds reflection, which in turn breeds a thorough questioning of beliefs very near and dear, which upon invalidation, breeds fear (amongst no dearth of other flavors of negativity).
True objectivity is a farce, especially in the face of distress.