Grief-stricken

I asked my brother-in-law to take this picture of my sister's hand on mine on July 4, 2009, just hours before she passed. Her scent lingered on my hand for an entire day after this...

I was was watching a show today on the History Channel about the Kennedys. It is said that Bobby never got over his brother, John's death. I get that. I understand, because I feel it, too.

It's been a year, 7 months, and 16 days since Daniella left. The void is unbearable sometimes - - often. I don't let myself cry often, but the tears are there, waiting to erupt at any moment. A song could trigger the tears, or it could be looking at her picture as I sit here. She's got the most beautiful smile that I will never see again. I have Papa Bear on a shelf right by me. Sometimes I hold him and he still smells like her after all this time, and I find myself hugging him close as if it were my sister. I touch the fabric of his suit and think that her microscopic atoms still linger and that is the closest I could get to her anymore.

There was a period in my life that I did not cry. I could go for 10-12 months without crying and then all my stress, disappointments, and heartaches would pile up and I would allow myself to cry just once, as long as I needed to. Now, I can't really stop them. I find myself crying when I see something cheerful on TV. Cheerful, not sad. The sad stuff - songs, commercials, movies, anything - are a given.

This is a period of my life that I cry without warning. I cry because I am angry. I may go days or weeks filled with rage. Perhaps the rage stems from immediate events, but I think because I am so engulfed in my grief, and my natural response to sadness is to get angry. I am more comfortable with anger than sadness. If I cry, I look and feel weak. If I get angry, I am fierce, no one will come near me, and therefore I will have no reason to be sad again. It physically hurts to cry. My throat tightens, my head fills with pressure, and my heart hurts.

Looking back, Mom's reaction to tears was "I'll give you something to cry about." Yeah, to many it's funny, but I was being conditioned to repress. Dad was pretty much the same, except he got angry if we showed any anger. That resulted in horrible yelling that sometimes turned into a few smacks. No, I am not angry at my parents. Kids don't come with instructions and God knows I would probably have succomed to beating my kid if I'd had one, than to impose some rational punishment. I am looking back and tracing my loathing of tears, and how anger and rage seem to empower me.

Is my current state of rage directed at someone or an event, or is my grief so intense right now that I am enraged as a means of self-preservation?