I am so angry at my husband.
Pretty stupid, right? How can you be angry at someone who dies? It’s not like they wanted to die, or did it on purpose…but grief and widowhood has no rhyme or reason.
I’ve been mad at him for a while, but it all came to a head today when I had to get his truck fixed. This was his job, his responsibility, and once again, I had to step up and get it done. Just like I’ve had to step up and fix the sink, fix the dehumidifier, fix the coffee pot, fix the dog’s waterer, fix the goat pen….the list goes on and on since he died.
I’m mad at him for leaving me with a mortgage, bills and less income. I’m mad at him for leaving me with his chores and projects around the ranch.
I’m mad at him for making me drive to and from horse shows by myself, regardless of how sore and tired I am afterwards.
I’m mad at him for leaving me alone night after night in a silent, empty, lonely house.
I’m mad at him for not being on the other end of the phone when I forget and call home to tell him I’ll be late.
I’m mad at him for not being here when I need to talk to someone about my day, my problems, my thoughts.
I am mad at him for taking our life together and shattering it into a trillion unfixable pieces.
I’m mad at him for taking my life with him and destroying my future.
I’m mad at him for not finding some way to cheat death and find a way to come back to me in a Hollywood moment.
I’m mad at him for dying.
There, I said it.
Unreasonable, irrational, crazy….yes, but it is there all the same.
The plain fact is – widowhood doesn’t make sense. The emotional rollercoaster doesn’t stop and it takes turns and twists that you could never imagine.
For instance, one moment I’m fine and the next I crumble inside with unbearable grief. It can come at anytime, anywhere, for any or no reason whatsoever. I’ve become an expert at covering those moments up when they happen in public or around other people.
Guilt and grief are all mixed up together too. I’m afraid to really think of the future because I know rationally that future might have someone in it. But then the guilt of thinking about having someone else in my life while I still love my husband gets twisted around my grief at the thought that there might be someone else who wasn’t my husband because my husband isn’t here anymore. Like I said – crazy.
And then there is this anger. I’m angry at my husband, at the doctors who didn’t save him, at God for not giving me the miracle I prayed for so desperately, at my new life that I never wanted and still don’t want and at the world for going about its business and not stopping completely to acknowledge all of the above. Like I said – irrational.
I’m mad at this whole process that seems never ending. Just when I think I’m becoming accustomed to being a widow, I am rocked backwards and I feel like I did when this all started. I’m angry at this whole one step forward, twenty steps back scenario.
I’m mad that I still can’t throw away the stupid cookies that I bought the day he die, 15 months ago. They are still in the package in the pantry. I just move them around to make room for newer groceries.
I’m mad at how unfair it all is and I’m mad at myself for whining because it is unfair.
I know that life isn’t fair. I know that things don’t always work out. I know that things don’t always happen to someone else. And yet, I’m mad that I am that ‘someone else’ for somebody else.
I’m just plain mad and angry and tired and I want a reset button.
I’m mad at Death, riding his pale horse, uncaring about the wreckage he leaves behind.
I get so angry at all of this that sometimes I would like to kill Death myself.
Widowhood is full of irony too.