Anger

Anger may very well be the ugliest part of the grief process. At least it is for me. And it is in the anger phase that I now find myself. It’s full of ugly thoughts and a want to distance myself from everything having to do with Laurel and the girls. I went through this stage with my Dad too, but I went through it when he was still alive. During a time when I had to take a break from taking care of him and my Mom or else I would have lost it and estranged myself from my family. It was ugly then too. But at least then I had stress to help shoulder some of the blame. I was pregnant, I was going back and forth between my house and theirs (a 380 mile distance) about every week, my oldest kiddo was reeling from the change of having me gone so much and I was completely separated from my friends because of the travelling and time of year (winter holidays). It was just not a good time. And I said many things in my anger that I am not even remotely proud of.

And now I find myself thinking things that I’m not even remotely proud of as I wade through the morass of this new loss. Things that I won’t give voice to, but leave ripples of guilt in their wake nevertheless. The anger comes in waves as well. Waves of feeling cheated and waves of absolute lividity at the universe for taking these people away from me and everyone else. From the world. Waves of rage that the world keeps spinning as if their deaths shouldn’t make everyone stop and cry. That there is no choice but to keep living in their absence. So angry at their absence.

I want to be all light and smiles in their memory. I want to smile every time I see their lovely faces in the many, many pictures left behind. I want to blast Ingrid Michaelson and dance like a crazy person to her sweet little voice. I want to go to Laurel’s and my favorite lunch spot and remember with joy all the wonderful conversations we had there while corralling kiddos over mid-day margaritas.

Instead, I am screaming. Screaming at the heavens. Screaming at the rain that took them away. Screaming at their memory to get out of my head and just leave me in peace. Screaming at the stereo every time “Be Ok” comes on and reduces me to tears instead of a dancing queen. Just screaming. Because it’s not fair. It’s not fair that they are gone, so suddenly and so violently and so completely. And it’s not right. And I am angry in the face of the void left behind.

Anger. It’s such an ugly thing. But if it’s planning on staying a while, I bid it do its worst and be done with it. And I bid myself to feel and be present with the anger so that I may integrate its lessons and move forward. I’m just asking for a bit of grace as I keep trying to put one foot in front of the other. Begging, really, for a bit of grace to be gentle with myself and my process.