I've toyed with the idea of writing this publicly. The things I plan to share here are raw, extremely personal and very painful. I am not an exhibitionist and I have always been slightly paranoid about the Internet (thanks, mom). But I decided that none of the feelings I have here about this are unique to me. I know people who will read this have or will suffer an enormous loss in their lives. It is the life we live.
Therefore, if any of what I am about to write brings someone comfort that you are not alone, I am honored. Because you're not.
A psychology professor recently told me that women do not cry from sadness. We cry because we are raging. She told the men in the class that if their partners cried during an argument, then the men have not "won" and the argument is far from over: the woman is raging. She is angry...very very angry.
The women kind of snickered at this. Including myself. I never really think of myself as "raging". But then I gave it some thought...and the recent times I have cried hard. And damn if she wasn't totally right.
She also said during the same class that when one has suffered the loss of a family member, it is ok to be mad with them. Mad and angry. I never really thought about this. When you lose someone, it's not really "acceptable" to be angry during the time your are mourning. However, it is a very true component of loss.
I am writing about it here is because I am tired of hiding it.
- I am angry with you for leaving, far far before you ever said you would.
- I am angry with you for leaving in the middle of the night, without warning, without me ever getting the chance to truly tell you how in love your little girl was with her daddy.
- I am angry with you for not allowing a funeral.
- I am angry with you for never being a grandfather.
- I am angry with you for never knowing your grand daughter.
- I am angry with you for how you have changed my family- my perfect family...forever.
- I am angry with you because when I need your common sense...the only person on the planet that could level with me like you always did- you are not there.
- I am angry with you because you'd be so freakin proud of me and you're not here to see it, tell me it, or brag about it like you used to love to.
- I am angry with you because you have never known me as a mother.
- I am angry with you because your death broke me.
- I am angry with you because our adult relationship had just started to emerge when you left me.
- I am angry because you left your little girl in this scary world without you.
- I am angry because you are not here to tell me that I have "fucked up" like you did when I was going through a rough patch at 20 years old. It hurt but you were right. No one else can reach me like that, and now is the time I need it the most.
- I am angry with you because there is no one who gives a shit like you used to about listening to my poker games.
- I am angry with you because you are not here to give me the hugs that would envelope me and make me feel like it was just you and me against the world.
- I am angry with you because I am a shadow of the person you knew me to be since you left and I don't know how to get who I was back without you.
- I am angry because I don't know where you are.
I am angry because you were my immortal. You were larger than life. Nothing could beat you. But you let life beat you. I know that sounds ridiculous...but you were never supposed to leave me.
I was and continue to be completely unprepared for the emotions that I have over your death. What I have come to realize is that time does not heal this. That's a lie. Time does nothing to the pain one feels over the death of another. The searing, ripping, hot stabs in your heart do lessen a little as time goes by. But grief only evolves into different hues and shades of itself.
What I also know is that despite all of this pain, I am emerging stronger. I am showing courage where I never thought I could. I feel your resilience and your stubbornness inside of me. I feel your drive and your constant reminders of honesty, communication and morality.
Damn, I am so much like you. I love you. I miss you.
