Stepping up is hard to do....

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....