Rage

Of all the emotions we have to fight, I think rage is the hardest one. Once all the others settle a little, the rage seems to build, get stronger. At times,I wonder if that happens so that it burns the harsher emotions away for a while, gives us a rest from the sorrow. It would seem that of all the emotions, this one flares the most often. How our loss occurred does not temper the rage that flows so easily through our hearts whether we are raging at the heavens, the loss, the stupidity of it all.... We fight with our emotions every single day. We walk on eggshells with ourselves. Any moment can trigger that period of deep sorrow, loss, grief. Simmering below it all, just underneath the surface, the rage boils and twists, waiting to jump out.

Last night, I was watching a program hosted by John Walsh. I don't think I know anyone who doesn't know who he is, what he has gone through, what he has done with his life. I have admired this man for years. No parent should have to go through what he did and still is. He made a comment that caught my attention. He said that even after all these years, he still felt rage. I was suddenly so grateful, so grateful to know that I was not alone in that feeling. This man who had accomplished so much, who took what was handed to him and helped so many, still felt rage. I understand him a little better now. I get it that he took that rage and pitted it against those who would hurt the innocent.

It tells me that the rage may always be with me so I have to learn to direct it, send it where it will do something good from something so terrible. No, I am not sure what to do with it yet, but at least I have hope that it can create something useful. Grief takes a toll, makes us weak, unable to move beyond the moment. There is no desire to create, to move, to find direction while we are caught up in this web. It is so hard to find a reason, a purpose when someone we love has died. We have to search for it even though we don't want to, it is not waiting for us.

Recently, someone informed me that they hoped I died next, that I deserved everything that had happened to me. This happened not because of something I did. Did it trigger the rage? Oh yes, it did, but not because of the obvious. Wishing me dead did not faze me. What did was it told me that this person was saying that my son deserved to die. That is what triggered the rage. Our own death does not bring the terror it once did after we have lost so much. Some of us feel it would be a relief. But to down grade our loved one is a different story. I don't feel anyone has a right to do that. What did I do with that great rage? I fought it. I did not say the things that were on the tip of my tongue. I did not tell everyone the complete story of this persons life even though there was plenty to say. I did not restrain myself for their sake, I did it for the memory of my son.

My rage goes into my writing for now. I have three journals, hand written, that I call 'Books of Poison.' I pour all of the anger and sorrow onto those pages and it does help. It is as though the paper absorbs the turmoil going on inside. On Tim's birthday, I will burn them. Sometimes, ritual helps too. I will release that poison to the air, allow it to be carried away back to the ones that brought it. I know that may sound silly to some, but it is what is in your imagination that helps you. It doesn't say that I will get over my grief, it doesn't say that I won't get angry. It just means that I will direct it away from me when it is necessary. I try not to let it loose on other people, there is no purpose in doing so.

It helps to know that the rage is 'normal.' Scary what normal is for us now, but something we learn to live with. We learn to live with it all eventually.  We will grieve forever  and who is to say that is not normal too? Grief is an unknown because it has been hidden and denied for so long. Too many try to guilt us out of our grief instead of accepting that it is what it is. We even have to learn that one. One of the reasons we live in a different world then those who have not walked this path. They do not understand the grief and believe we can get beyond it if we wanted too. Little do they know. I have hope. Hope that one day, I can find a direction for this.