Posted in Family, Improving Self, Life, Writing

Realization in Grief


Last night, I think I finally got angry about my Mom’s death.

That may sound absurd but I know it is normal when it comes to grieving. Everyone grieves at their own pace and through their own emotions. Sometimes, it is even cyclical.

I called my brother and told him. He said I’m angry because there is no justice to her death. I didn’t realize that what it was until he said it.

There is no rightful or impartial reason for her death. There is no equitable principle that it follows. It happens because we are human and it is how we are designed.



I don’t think I have hated anything in an extremely long time but it is how I feel about her death. I hate it.

It’s a bit of a head rush to realize that. Thank you for listening.

As always, feel free to leave a comment on the post or in the Contact Me page.



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9 thoughts on “Realization in Grief

  1. It’s been twenty years since my mom died, and a part of me is still angry about it. She had cancer; there was nothing they could do – it was too advanced.

    My dad died four and a half years ago, and I think I’m angrier about that. He had a host of health problems, but the one that got him in the end was of his own making. Decades of smoking destroyed his lungs and killed him eventually, but even knowing it was bad for him, he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) give up his cigarettes. And after watching him die over the course of a couple of days, my sister still smokes.


    1. My sister also smokes and it’s been occluded as a way of self-violence. A way she can hurt herself that she can control. Being Ashkenazi Jew, we are so predisposed to cancer and messed up genetics, majority of them die from cancer from what I have read.


      1. We have some messed-up genetics in my family, too. My dad had a seizure disorder, my niece had severe cerebral palsy; we’ve got a bunch of alcoholics and depressives and a bunch of other stuff. Maybe alcoholism and depression aren’t necessarily genetic conditions, but they sure do seem to run in families, which makes me wonder if there isn’t some sort of genetic component, even if it’s nothing more than a predisposition to suffering from those conditions.


      2. You can be predisposed to alcoholism and depression through genetics. That doesn’t mean you will be either, just more likely.


      3. Same with breast cancer. I’ve had six relatives with breast cancer (my mom, both grandmas, an aunt, a great-aunt, and my great-grandma), but I’ve never bothered with the genetic testing because I just don’t see the point. Having the gene doesn’t guarantee I’ll get it, but not having the gene doesn’t guarantee my safety. And I’m not the kind of woman to go lop off both breasts proactively because if they don’t get all your breast tissue when they do the mastectomy, you can still get cancer. So in the meantime, I wait and I pray and I try (and fail) not to worry.


      1. I hear you there – my mom was 30 when she was diagnosed and 31 when she died. I just turned 30 in January. I am having one heck of a party when I turn 32. There is a ton of cancer in my family, so I worry about it a lot. Mostly what worries me is that I’ll die before I can see my kids grow up. I don’t want them to have the same kind of childhood that I did.


      2. I know what you mean. I am just terrified. It’s a reason I was determined to be a “young” mother. I turn 28 on Monday and my son is 4, will be turning 5 on Christmas.


      3. I was 19 when my oldest was born and 27 when my youngest was born. I wish they were closer together in age, because those extra few years between kids made an unbelievable difference in my energy level, but it couldn’t be helped. Tadpole and Bubbles are 9 months and a week apart, and Cricket and Thumper are 13 months apart, which gives them all good playmates (though I suspect Tadpole and Bubbles may drift apart as they hit the teen years, but I suppose that’s natural).

        Incidentally, Cricket and your son are 6 months apart – Cricket turned 4 on June 25. 🙂 When I was growing up, we used to celebrate birthdays at school, and the kids with summer birthdays always had their birthday parties on their half-birthdays, since we weren’t in school in the summer. One of my classmates’ birthdays was June 25, but since we weren’t in school on Christmas, either, she had to celebrate her half-birthday a little early.


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