Angry

I'm really tired about writing about grief and mourning and all this pathetic, sucky stuff. I actually have a real distaste for being a pity sucking drama queen, but this is my life right now. I'm also just angry right now -- at everything.

I'm angry at my husband for not having taken care of himself. Damn it, he knew the last three generations of men in his family died in middle age of heart attacks, just none as young as him. I'm angry at the physical mess he's left me to deal with. My husband had ADD with a co-morbid obsessive compulsive disorder. His didn't take the form of compulsive neatness, hand washing or counting. He was a hoarder, and if he hadn't been kept in some sort of check by the womanchild and myself, our home would have been nothing but piles and piles of stuff -- hardware (hammers, nails, bolts, not PC components), newspapers, what seems like miles of coaxial cable and every now and then, some wonderful things like antique wrought iron or crystal doorknobs. This is a powerful and painful glimpse into a complicated mind. All of his hoarding sprang from a creative impulse that he would someday do something with all this junk, but now, it's just a big mess that depresses, angers and intimidates me every time I look at it. And I'm angry at the people who sneered at him for this trait and thought it was laziness or another character flaw.

I'm PHENOMENALLY angry at fundamentalists now, some of whom I overheard saying it was a pity my husband was in hell because he was such a nice guy. How dare anyone think they know the state of another person's soul? How dare anyone teach that such thinking is appropriate or even Christian? My husband led a much more Christlike life than most people I know. He didn't have much use for organized religion. He didn't have much use for organized institutions. Period. His heart and soul were loving, gentle and nonjudgmental. He didn't give a fig for appearances or position -- his own or anybody else's. He was the most loyal man I've ever known. He never gave up on a friend and was always open to the possibilities of new friendships everywhere. He literally saw the whole world as his neighbor, sometimes that really annoying neighbor, but still. He went out of his way to be kind to people, particularly people who are easily overlooked. The two greatest commandments God gave us were to love God and love others. My husband did both exceptionally well, and I don't have a single doubt about where he's spending his afterlife. Nor would anyone who really knew him.

Another bit of anger is harder to handle. Don't ask me how a particular family member is doing without asking how another is doing as well. This has happened too many times now. It's just rude. One keeps their feelings on the outside and the other on the inside. It doesn't mean the latter deserves less concern or respect.

I know I've seriously gone into the realm of overshare, and I'm trying hard to restrain myself. There's so much I won't say here. My pastor told me the day we met to plan the funeral that it gets worse before it gets better. He was right. I'm in the worse now. I've always been afraid of my anger, and I'm fighting this. I don't even know if I should fight it, but I am. I haven't looked at the stages of grief materials I've been given yet. It's just one more thing I'm not up to yet, but I can feel that this is only natural.

I hope to be able to write about something else soon. I really do. I hope to actually be able to sit down and write thank you notes soon. Oh, I feel guilty about those. It's not lack of gratitude, I promise. In the meantime, I can only focus on the moment at hand and what the immediate needs are. Even with this, it still sometimes feels like too much. That just makes me angry at myself.