Sometimes I feel genuinely angry that I have experienced such profound loss at such a young age. It isn’t fair, I tell myself. There is no God, I decide.
I don’t believe that I am stuck in the anger stage of grief. I think anger is just where I have landed permanently.
I often think about what would be different if I hadn’t experienced these losses. Where would I be? Where would they be? This is a normal part of processing death, I know. But I think it’s where a large part of my anger stems from.
There are three beautiful little kids that would have their loving, amazing mama. Their lives would be completely different right now.
I was raised Catholic. I went to church and Sunday school every single week for 18 years. It never occurred to me that God wasn’t a loving wonderful God. It was all I had been taught. Bad things happen because God gives us free will. Evil things occur because as much as there is a God there is a Devil. But then I began to experience life, and I began to question everything I was ever taught. What kind of God allows a 29 year old mother of three toddlers to beat cancer, and then die from it less than a year later? It is cruel. It is mean. What kind of God allows a baby to die at 18 weeks for no reason whatsoever? If God is real, am I supposed to believe that He blesses people with these amazing things: beating cancer, carrying a new baby; just to rip them away and cause incredible pain and anguish? This is not the God that I learned about. So I have decided there is no God. I think there is just life, and terrible things happen, and that’s it.
There are people in grief groups I am apart of that find such comfort in their personal relationships with God. They are drawn closer to their religious beliefs in their grief. Maybe I am a little jealous of them. But I just can’t find it. I can’t find a place in my life and my heart for a God that is responsible for such horrible terrible things.
I don’t know that I have worked through all of my anger. I have accepted what life is now. I have adjusted my whole life without her. I have “emotionally relocated” her presence in my everyday life, and I even have begun to move on. But I am still so damn angry. Maybe because there is no justifiable reason for why she is not here.
I often find myself angry at others that continue to live. People that don’t appreciate life. People that continue to bring themselves so close to death and then keep on living anyway. It isn’t fair. Why do they continue to be spared? Someone that wanted so badly to live, for herself and her children, she was taken so quickly. And this again brings me back to not believing there is a God. What kind of God allows this to happen?
Grief is hard. So hard.
I have talked before about the “waves”. It is truly the best way I can describe my journey through grief. There are days when I am fine. Days where I cry for hours and am so incredibly sad. But for the most part, the anger is always there. I don’t know how to let it go, and maybe I never will.