The only time I have had to deal with death in my 22 years of life was when I lost my best friend in high school. I found that I became very much a seperatist. I didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't want to be around anyone else who had connections with him. It took a good year or so before I was finally able to bring him up and hold regular conversations about him. I had great feelings of guilt, thoughts that I should have been able to do something to prevent his death (a result of a drug overdose, and I could go into a lengthy discussion on our friendship and how we were both into things, and then I got out, but here is not the place), and it still haunts me in the back of my head. But as the years have passed (5 years now) I have almost let go of any repressed feelings that I had. Things are much easier now when a conversation comes about him, but I still do get choked up when I visit his grave, or see something that reminds me of him. Just remember, time heals all wounds, and death is a big mother fvcking wound.
RIP Jon.