I’m angry but I’m not sure who or what I’m angry at. Grief brought a lot of emotions and anger was one that surprised me the most. It’s fierce and it’s mighty but I’m not sure who exactly it should be directed towards.
Am I angry at God? For not giving my mother more time. For taking an immensely faithful woman too soon— before gray hair or retirement? Before she led others to be just as faithful as she was.
Am I angry at the doctors? For not saving my mother. For not healing her from the cancer that ravished her body? For not doing more to extend her life?
Am I angry at the disease? A disease that steals so many beautiful people. A disease that rips our loved ones away violently and without care? A disease that knows no limits or boundaries.
Am I angry at everyone who gets to live a long life— something my mother never got to do? Am I angry at the bad moms, the less than mediocre moms, the ones who get to stay when the good ones seem more deserving of additional breaths and memories?
Am I angry at my own mother? For leaving me before she taught me how to live a life without her? Before she taught me all the things a mother is supposed to teach her child. For missing every single thing that is to come.
Am I angry at the world for keeping some and killing others? For deciding my mom was ready to be lowered six feet under while billions of others get added time and added influence. For a world that has diseases that deplete great people of the life they deserved.
Am I mad at death itself for sneaking in and taking a woman who had so much left to give and do and say? A woman who loved and lived beautiful and so very much deserves to still be here.
I’m so angry.
Angry that she’s gone. Angry that she’s missing each new day and each new accomplishment. Angry that she doesn’t get to be here for her daughters or her grandchildren. Angry that her time expired before all the other mothers I know. Angry that her goodness wasn’t rewarded with something as simple as additional life and living.
Grief brought anger.
I’m not proud of it but it’s a reality of grief’s impact. I’m not an angry person but I’m occasionally filled with the kind of anger that only loss can bring. The kind that doesn’t always lessen with time. The kind that can’t be mended, only reconciled within my own heart and soul.
I wonder if anger is simply grief’s solution to the cruel heartbreak that loss brings. If anger is simply pain with no resolution, heartbreak with no healing, and grief with no end.
I’m angry but deep down I know it’s really just pain. Deep, immense, undeniable, unwavering pain that reveals itself as anger.
Unfortunately, anger is a symptom of grief and today I’m angry. I’m angry she’s gone.
A thirty-something wife, mother and educator who has Indiana roots and a passionate spirit. Chelsea is a sappy romantic, coffee junkie, book collector, and person who wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s sarcastic, full of jokes, full of tears, and enjoys writing most when life gets messy or complicated. In 2017, Chelsea's mother passed away. Through her grief journey, she decided to take her mother’s advice and share her writing with the world. One day she gained the courage to honor her mother's wishes and write. It turned out to be one of the best decisions she's ever made.