Death is a Stage(s)

Warning: This is not a very pleasant blog,
because I haven’t been very pleasant lately.

people at theater
Photo by Monica Silvestre on Pexels.com

I believe in kindness. I’ve been surrounded by kindness so much in my life, but especially since my husband died three and a half weeks ago.  As much as I struggle with the existence of God in all of this, when I feel and see kindness during this time, I have to think perhaps there is God. And yet, it does not take away my anger, which is so exhausting. 

See, I’m tired all the time. Sure, because of all the sadness I’ve been feeling. I wear my heart on my sleeves and crying during a Hallmark commercial is a byproduct. Yes, I have never cried so much, so often, as I have in these past weeks since Peter died. I wake up in tears. I weep during the day. I end my day sobbing out my loneliness. And I’m tired.  But I am also angry and this is what fatigues me. I know Kubler-Ross and the stages of grief. I studied her in school, and let me tell you, these past few days, the exhausting anger stage has taken over.

I’m angry at being told how I should feel or given permission to feel. I didn’t ask for it.  Telling me I should be kind to myself, or I should do X Y or Z to help me heal, even telling me it’s okay, only frustrates me. No one can possibly know the depth or the despair of another. I’m angry for people thinking they do.

I’m angry about being told how strong I am.  I was strong, before this all happened. Now, I’m weak, and yet I still have to fight insurance companies and HR departments. Even the strongest of warriors deflate in the agonies of defeats, and I am facing my biggest losses ever. Let me feel my agonies, my losses, and all that entails, and be my strength right now because I can’t.

I’m angry at the drive-thru gal who tells me to have “a nice day”,  the telemarketer who asks for Peter, and the couple that walks up and down the aisles of the grocery store.  How can I have a nice day? I haven’t had one of those in what seems forever. No, you can’t talk to my husband because see, he’s dead and I will never talk to him again.  How pissed I am at you, the couple over there because you have what I will never have again, a coupling with your partner.  How dare people go on with their lives as if nothing happened! Don’t they know my world stopped, and I can’t stand to see yours keep moving?

I am angry with people telling me they understand. Really? How? Unless your spouse, partner or child died, I don’t think you know my journey.  Your cousin’s husband’s mother who just died is just not the same. The definition of yourself remains.  Sure, you suffered a loss and going through grief, but our pain and our losses are not the same.

I’m angry at people who tell me it’ll all be alright and to give it time. How do they know? Do they have a crystal ball? And if so, where was it the day my husband died? I could have used it then. Hearing this from someone with a dead husband, partner or child, is one thing. Hearing it from someone else is completely different. And yes, eventually, I will be alright. I have to be. There is no Plan B, Just let me get there in my own way and at my own pace.

Finally, I am so angry with myself which is the most exhausting. I know the advice, the encouragement and the stories come from a place of love, a place of kindness.  And I believe in kindness.  Believe me, I have done all of the above, for the same reason everyone else does, because I cared. I know all of this in the part of my soul which has not been damaged by my husband’s death. Yet that part is too small and smothered in anger right now. And it doesn’t make me feel good.

I am not proud of myself.  I hate that I have this anger or these thoughts right now. Unfortunately, or fortunately, this blog is not a sugar-coating of emotions. This blog is my expression of every raw emotion I have, so sometimes, this blog will be unkind. My hope is no one took this personally because really, it is on me and where I’m at and not on you and all your best intentions.

One day, I know kindness will return in me because I believe in kindness. Anger will give way to another Kubler-Ross stage.   Until then, I am grateful, so very grateful,  to get a glimpse at God through all of your kindness, and THIS is what will carry me through these spiteful days.