The weight of grief and chaos is palpable...the goodness of my heart aches with the cracking heartache captured across telephone wires and fiber-optics. I understand the loss and accompanying depression, the desperation that comes with being alone in the gauntlet thrown down by the school of hard knocks. Yet I can't hold this, I can't hold this aching breaking you on the other end of the line. Full up here on the unintended blood suckers who are so broken they leech off others in their attempts to survive the tsunami like waves. There are those whom I am willing to wade into the depths of the ocean's darkness with and those for whom it's another's deep ended journey. Stability is my shallow cord and I don't have enough of it to offer you. Yes it's true I have played the savior at times, badly poorly and ineffectively mind you, but in two minutes of conversation I know I have nothing to offer that pain. What I have to give is for another, I am not noble or self less enough to ask for absolutely nothing in return to give like Mother Teresa in utter abundance. No, I do require a cost of some kind and that's a toll that you are unable to pay. Yours are not tears or shutters that I can hold. My body is unwilling to be offered as a means of distraction and care to your ache. This is not a relationship that will go beyond a phone call...I do not wish to try and hold grace in my naked attachments. For some I would offer body and heart as a balm for restoration and hope but you are not him and so I must go.