Facing Down Tomorrow

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 Content warning: grief, anger, parental death


Photo by Naja Bertolt Jensen on Unsplash 


Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of my mother's death.

I am angry with God because I don't know who else to be angry with. 

And I am so very angry. 

I'm angry with the fact that I'm angry. 

Who am I that the fact that I lost parents at the ages of 90 and 88 is something to be sad, let alone angry, about? They lived long lives, happy lives. They left the world better than they found it. They loved each other to distraction, and they loved my brother and me in such a way that it was impossible to ever even imagine otherwise. I didn't even have any outstanding emotional issues, thanks to years of therapy. Nothing was left unsaid, no unfinished business. 

So why am I so angry?

Maybe it's just how the power of my grief manifests. If I've ever had any choice about how to feel, if any sort of anger were available, that's what I've chosen. Anger's animation and power have always been preferable to sadness's inertia and emptiness.

All I know some days is that I hurt so badly that I feel like I'm going to implode with the power of the pain. 

"If this is how you treat your friends,  no wonder you don't have any!" These were the choice words St. Theresa of Avila had for God during an unpleasant episode involving a steep, icy hill, a stubborn mule, and an unfortunate attack of gravity.

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