Saturday, October 23, 2010

Anger, party of 1

Today I get to be mad.

Every day, I wake up and I get to miss you. I get to wish you were here. I get to wish I could call you up and ask you simple things like how your day has been or what you want to do tonight. I get to remember the past--all of the beautiful memories we had along with the horrendously painful ones. I get to remember what life was like with you in it. I get to be happy that I knew you for as long as I did. I get to remember the 2am water balloon fight in my backyard. I get to do all those things. Every day.

And yes, I do consider each and every one of those things a privilege. Want to know why? Because by being able to do all of those things, it meant that you existed. That you lived. You were real, you weren't always just a memory. And to know that God loved me enough to put you in my life for as long as He did? That, my friend, is a privilege.

But today? Today I get to do something I don't do very often. Today I get to be mad at you. Today I have to miss you. Today I have to wish you were here. Today I don't get to remember what life was like with you in it but I have to acknowledge what life is like without you. I'm not happy for knowing you; today, I'm sad because I don't get to know you anymore. I don't have a clue what 26 year old you would be like.

In theory, I don't like the idea of being mad at you. I truly believe, with every fiber of my being, that you felt you had no other choice. That you didn't realize how many people loved you--or that you would be hurting every single one of them. For those reasons, I don't feel like I can be mad at you. Everyone says I can; that it's "normal"...but, for me, for my own healing purposes, and in order to forgive you, being angry isn't generally an option. I can't change the past. I can't change the fact that I don't hear your voice every day. It is what it is. Because of that, I choose to love.

But, every once in awhile, I let the anger out. I get to kick and scream that life isn't fair. That you were too young. That you're an idiot for taking your own life--and, in essence, bits and pieces of everyone that knew you. I get to be mad that you hurt me. I get to be mad that you hurt people I love. I get to be mad that you were only thinking about yourself that morning and not thinking about the repercussions your actions were going to have on every single person you'd ever met. I get to be mad that, because of you, some relationships I had will never be the same. The thing is...I think you're ok with that. Wherever you are...whoever you're with...whatever you're doing--you know I'm mad and you know it's ok.

Tomorrow will be better. I'll wake up and I'll get to miss you. It will be a privilege tomorrow.

But today? Today I get to be mad.