Ask for help. . .

I don't have time to write all that I want to here, today. (or ever).

My brother died about 24 hours ago. My heart is breaking, though I'm doing so much better than I was a day ago. Part of what helped me so much was the outpouring of sympathy I received on facebook. While each person handles their grief differently, I've learned the importance of grieving out loud. My family's tendency in the past was to buck up and stand tall. "Get over it" and "Move on."

Not this time. And not the time before. I'm learning to say out loud "I'm hurting." "I need help."

The outpouring of love directed at my family because of that cry has been so heartwarming. I feel like I'm supported - held up - and like I'm growing because of it. I think the healing will be quicker and more full.

The sad thing is that my brother would not be gone right now if he'd learned how to ask for help.

Specifically, he may have died because he had no insulin to treat his diabetes. And he wouldn't ask for help. Or couldn't? Where does that stubborn pride come from and why do we serve it?

He died an alcoholic that suffered for years and years. I understand that struggle and felt his pain for a long time. I know that trap.

Why is it so hard to ask for help? It's the simplest thing and the most complex thing, all in one.

If only he could have asked. . . If he could have humbled himself to accept that there is a loving God that could have helped him. And family and friends that cared so much about him on so many levels.

May we all learn from lessons like this - we are never too big, too small, too important, too wrecked, or too whatever-it-is-we-think-we-are, to ask for help.