The step dad of one of The Sweet Prince Buttercup's best friends dropped dead last week, the fourth death of a person I know in the last two weeks
Another victim of a heart attack.
He was 49 years old.
I weaseled out of going to the funeral home... just like I've weaseled out of calling my step-sister who lost her husband of 9 days to a heart attack just a week or so ago....
I'm a weasel.
I've been doing some heavy duty soul searching to try and figure out my weasel-y behavior.
I know the importance of support during grieving.
I remember every single person who walked through the funeral home door when my brother died.
I can still feel their hugs, hear their words of comfort.
And yet, I don't move to offer that support to my sister or to acquaintances/friends who've recently lost loved ones.
Marmie has urged "send a card, pick up the phone" and she really is one to talk, she is a one woman support group.
She runs into the hurricane that is grief.. runs at it, faces it, offers comfort, and cards and love, love, love to sufferers.
I so want to be like her.
I want to have that strength.
Grief scares me...simple as that.
My own, after my brother's death was something I don't dare revisit.
My heart can't hurt that bad again.
I know that is part of my reluctance in getting on the ball and delivering sympathies and love to people I KNOW need it.
I make myself sick thinking about how sick I make myself.
Lame, lame chicken shit that I am.
These husbands that that have died much too early are much too close to my Daddio's age...
And I can't can't can't go there.
I'm trying so hard to be the person I need to be.
And so far, I'm not doing that great of a job.
Thanks for listening....