Rage, rage against the dying of the light

One of the emotions that took me by surprise after my husband died was white-hot Rage. You need to know that I am a very even-keeled person—I am usually calm and peaceful... I had never experienced such intense anger!

I was angry at the world for continuing to turn as if nothing had happened. I was angry at obviously unhealthy people I passed in the street. How dare they abuse their bodies, carry that weight, smoke those cigarettes and still be alive while my vibrant, fit, healthy husband was dead! I was angry at God for allowing it all to happen. Above all, I was angry at my husband for leaving.

Most of the people I encountered day-to-day would have had no idea of the dangerous, seething emotions that bubbled just beneath my surface. However, I was acutely aware of them, and felt that the smallest thing could tip me over the edge and all that anger would be unleashed. I seriously considered getting a t-shirt printed that read “Don’t mess with me, I’m a widow!” as a warning to those around me.

But you know, there is an energy to that anger. It is a fuel that drives you forward. Looking back, I think it was the anger that kept me going when I felt beyond tired; when my 5-year-old daughter refused to sleep in case I died too; when the world seemed grey and stripped of colour; when I felt like an old, old woman, the anger provided enough energy to keep me moving.

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