Stages

I've often considered myself pretty good at dealing with hurt in life. I had high hopes for my ability to process and cope with the loss of R. This isn't so bad…I thought. I've got this. I now know that these thoughts were simply called numbness and they stood tall for about 12 seconds.

Turns out, I’m really not so “good” at grieving. Because, news flash to me, it’s impossible to be. Grieving just is. 

I don’t particularly find solace in the stages of grief but even if I did, I truly didn’t think I would experience anger. I didn't relate when people said they were mad at God or life or themselves after they faced a tragedy. I guess because I accept that life is messy. But despite all this, anger did creep in somewhere. It’s the tricky kind that lurks below the surface and bubbles out with disguised roots – like lashing out at dirty dishes or overreacting to misspoken words from Adam or a friend.

It's been almost three months since losing R and and a couple of Sundays ago, we had her headstone unveiling. It was tough but it was beautiful. 

For some unknown reason, last night I had this overwhelming desire to pull out my pictures from my trip home to Newfoundland. I was looking through pictures and video of said trip and came across images of Cape Spear. Cape Spear is the most easterly point in North America and a beautiful and stunning spot. Where ocean meets rock. It's rugged and harsh. Beautiful.

It was a funny feeling to realize I was comforted by looking at these ungentle acts of nature. I felt at peace because I was watching external expressions of my insides.

I'm angry. Deep in my heart I'm mad because R died. I wanted to be back there to sit and stay there with the wind and waves all night to watch them tell me how I was feeling.

It was a really important realization; many of my reactions make more sense now that I know this emotion is a valid force in my life. I feel okay about the anger because even if I don’t blame anyone that R is gone, it still isn’t fair. It still hurts. I still don’t want us to be without her. I have waves crashing inside of me that need to be felt. I do try to let the waves exit as tears instead of gritted teeth, and I try to hug Adam instead of throwing dishes at him (okay, I never threw dishes at him, because he’s amazing, but you know).

I think it’s important to understand that anger is as valid as sadness or joy. I look forward to letting it go one day, but for now, in the same way that I need to express these other emotions, sometimes I just need to throw rocks into the ocean and find solace in the crashing waves.

Cape Spear, Newfoundland