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Stages of Grief: Anger

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Anger – sighs.  I sometimes wonder if I’m missing something here.  I remember being mad when an old friend died, and when my aunt died in her 20’s.  But now?

I suspect there is a sociology paper in this, but I’m not Christian per se, and as such I don’t really believe in heaven or a god that is controlling everything.  So, who am I supposed to be mad at?  My husband?  Trust me, he would have moved the Earth to come back to me.  Reality? Being mad at reality is a bit of a waste of time.  Myself?  Why?  I didn’t do anything to cause this.  So who could I be mad at?

I hurt, I miss him, I feel like a blanket of sorrow has wrapped around my soul.  I’m frustrated and upset when I trip over something and think “He’s supposed to be doing this.” But, mad?  No.

Everyone says I’m handling this so well.  Maybe, but mostly I’m lost inside not wanting to face reality.  Like the fact that I never thought I’d get married.  Then he fell for me.  He told me he loved me first and scared the daylights out of me.  I guess I get to go back to being alone again, and I had forgotten how much just having someone there made life less empty.  Even when I could have strangled him, I never doubted he loved me.

One of our on going jokes was I didn’t believe in divorce.  But an unmarked grave was a possibility.  Well, we avoided divorce, and I have his urn.  I’d rather have him.

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