The death of a friend

A lovely young man, Justin, died in his sleep Monday morning. He used to work with us. His father still does. I'm so very sad. I cried when we were told Monday. When my son emailed pictures of Justin to me today, I got teary-eyed again. I'll probably cry at Justin's laying out Thursday evening and his funeral, Friday. He was my son's officemate for a couple of years, and he was always helpful and kind. I cried, too, last month when I was told that Mark, a young man I used to babysit and play with as a kid, drowned down in Mexico. I've not seen Mark in years. Although I've stayed in touch with his parents and his paretns are some of my dad's best friends and next-door neighbors, Mark and I have both grown up and moved on. Again, he was a lovely person, a missionary with a wife and young daughter. Such a loss, both of them. Justin was only 26. Mark was 40 at most. Yet, when my husband's step-mother died a couple years ago, I wasn't sad. I didn't cry. I'm still not sad and I don't think I ever will be. She was a witch to my family and did some dastardly things. Yet, she was actual family - she was mother to my husband's siblings. I don't feel guilty, at least not much. I feel more guilty that I don't feel guilty about her death. Does that make me an awful person? That I am having such a hard time dealing with Justin's death but not the step-mother? I can't even say her name. She still makes me so angry. She brings up such horrible feelings of anger and hatred. This week, I'm a mess. Perhaps after Justin is laid to rest I'll be able to cope better. If you read this, please say a prayer for Justin and his family and also for Mark and his family. I can't imagine losing one of my children. My heart aches for their families and for them.