Dealing With Anger And Grief
Sometimes when I’m sitting up late at night a feeling of anger overcomes me. Perhaps this feeling is best described as rage. One of the first things I think about is throwing something. Not something light, but something heavy like a book or a remote control. Then I think that’s not good enough. I want to just trash my apartment.
To begin with, I was giving credit to this to my staying up late. I do think it has some bearing on these feelings, but after last night I think there’s more to it.
I recently purchased a book titled “The Healing Journey Through Grief” by Phil Rich. Before going to bed the night before, I read the first few pages in it. When I started reading, I felt calm and relaxed. A short time later I was feeling like throwing the book against the wall. It was then that I started to realize my anger had something to do with Daddy’s death.
It had been several weeks since I had written in my personal journal. When I thought about writing in it concerning my feelings the night before, it didn’t seem like a pleasant task. To be honest, I was afraid of where it would lead. The feelings of anger continued to nag at me and I reluctantly picked my journal up and began to write.
Despite the title of the book, I decided that it didn’t feel very “healing”. I also wrote that I felt like a storm was brewing within me. The following is an excerpt of what I wrote:
“Who or what am I angry at? Putting my finger on everything seems a difficult task & one that I don’t know if I want to do. To explore all of my feelings concerning this seems to mean that I make myself extremely vulnerable.
I feel angry at Daddy for the way he died, not giving me a chance to say goodbye.”
I also discovered that I was angry with God for allowing him to die like he did. After I finished writing, I felt like there was something still inside me that was hidden, but this wasn’t the time to try and uncover it. I just felt too drained.
Last night at A.A., I shared this with the group. Afterward, Sherri talked a little about her mother’s death a few years ago. Sherri said because she was sick, she wasn’t with her mother in the hospital when she died. She was angry with herself for not being there. I also realized that I was mad at myself for not being with Daddy.
On the way home last night, another friend, Jerry told me about how he was mad at everyone, including God when his son died at an early age. He later realized that he had done everything that he could and didn’t have a reason to be angry.
Jerry asked me if I told Daddy that I loved him. I said that I had but couldn’t recall if I did the day he died. A feeling of fear and dread overcame me. Then I remembered that I probably had told him based on one of our last conversations that day.
Jerry said if I told Daddy and he knew I loved him, I didn’t have anything to be angry about. As I listen to Jerry talk, I knew that he was just trying to help me and perhaps in a way he did. But I believed that despite all this, being angry was just a part of grieving. In a way it seemed like Jerry was telling me that I shouldn’t be angry or maybe that I didn’t have the right to be angry. Perhaps that’s not what he meant.
When Mother died, people told me that I had to “brace up and be strong”. I would get so mad. It was like they were telling me that I didn’t have the right to grieve. I know they were just trying to help and probably didn’t know what else to say. If there was one thing that I learned from Mother’s death it was to be careful what you say to someone who just lost a loved one. That’s a time when you’re extremely sensitive and the wrong thing, no matter how helpful it’s intended to be, can be very hurtful. Sometimes the best thing to do is just give the person a hug and simply say “I’m sorry.”
