On Wednesday, it will be 6 months since my husband and father of my children has died. Still very fresh in my mind, although I am starting to feel the various phases of grief. Now, I seem to be hovering in anger.
I was happy to have my anger drive me to get G. into a good grade school. Anger should be a productive thing, not turned inwards as depression. It’s all too easy to have control over the situation by using oneself as a punching bag, since others seem too far out of reach. But knowing that, I won’t go there.
I’m back to work full-time, so more tired than ever. G’s idiosyncrasies, not to mention those of his older brothers, can sometimes feel overwhelming. Again, knowing that I cannot, as one person, save the world, I feel free to leave the three boys to themselves to sort it out. I promise myself dates out with friends; movies on DVD; chocolate; a rich fantasy life.
Shortly after J. died, I had a revelation that I, myself, would like to live. But it’s only recently that, emerging from the fog of sadness, I need to dedicate myself to also being happy, not just walking through life in a simmering resentment. That’s going to be a little bit of work as life is indeed a challenge of great magnitude.
My best friend of over 20 years has made it clear she cannot cope with the intensity of my new life; my parents cannot speak the name of the tragedy that’s befallen me, but like some other shallow relationships I have, they are hoping I can get back to “normal” soon. To a certain degree, death of a spouse sorts out who’s who in your life and I expect there is some normality in the results I’ve seen. It just hurts. And hurting makes me angry now.
I was on a corporate video shoot the other day with a bible study class from a southside Chicago black church. I told the women that I admire people of faith. They asked me if I had faith in God, which I do not. I was handed a large packet of information that might guide me in that direction. However, I think looking at it clearly, I’ll need to develop more faith in myself. Not only do I need to care for those around me, but taking care of the vessel that is "me" doesn’t come, for some reason, as naturally. So, I pray, to whom I don’t know, that everyday will come and go without drama and instead, a sense of calm contentment. It sounds easy, but maybe you can pray for me too.