There’s no fun side to grief. There’s nothing about it that makes me break out in cheers. There’s a reason why we try to avoid it and, when we can’t do that, why we try to deny it.
But there’s an uglier side to grief I’d forgotten about. It’s in the charts and lists and stuff from the experts, but for some reason it’s never really registered with me. It’s not sadness or depression. I expect those. It’s anger.
The weekend after my Dad’s death, my family packed up (really, my wife did it all) and we headed out for a long weekend of camping. It was such a gift. We had a beautiful, wide-open campground next to a babbling part of the South Santiam River. A canopy of thin green alder leaves kept the hot sun at bay and crackling fires warmed the cool evenings. We breathed deep, played games, went for a hike, ate lots of snacks, and enjoyed the simplicity of it all.
But when we got home, I passed by my Dad’s empty room and a switch flipped inside me. And all that peacefulness was gone in an instant. I felt myself become angry. Not at anyone or anything, just a seething below the surface.
Before saying anything rash, I told my wife, “I’m feeling especially grumpy right now. Just know it’s not you. There’s no reason to it. It just is.”
I went upstairs and put a record on the turntable. I needed to isolate myself (so I wouldn’t say anything regrettable) and let myself just feel.
At first, I thought, “What’s going on here? You’ve just had an amazing weekend. Why are you in such hot turmoil?”
Then the research on grief and anger finally hit me. And I remembered a few ugly memories from when my sister Joy died 23 years ago. One person in particular received the brunt of my anger back then. I apologized to her afterward, but it still makes me cringe. (Sorry, Janet!)
Anger arises from a sense of a loss of control. When I am about to win a game but roll the dice and get the exact wrong number, I’ve lost control and am angry. When a driver cuts me off on the road and proceeds to slow down so I’m late for work, I’ve lost control and am angry. When I misplace my keys, I’ve lost control and am angry.
Death is the most out of control thing we ever face in life. There are no do-overs, no replacements. There’s just loss. And we can’t do a single thing about it. it makes us angry.
I. know this. I’ve read about it. I’ve experienced it. But I still have to deal with it.
I’ve got a building project coming up soon and I’m really looking forward to it. It’ll give me the opportunity to break some things (expressing anger is good, especially when it’s controlled). And it’ll give me the opportunity to make some things (making and fixing things exerts control over a world spun out of control). It’s not the answer to my anger. It doesn’t erase death. But next to another peaceful camping trip, it’s just what this sometimes-angry grieving guy needs.
And if I uncork a bit of my anger on you, please forgive me. I’m just not myself right now. It’s ugly and makes me feel ugly inside. But this too shall pass.