On Anger

By Sherrie Ann Cassel

“I think it’s your own choice if you turn from an angry young man to a bitter old bastard.”
~Billie Joe Armstrong~

At the dawning of grief, the earth continues to spin, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, babies are born, people go about their business, and no one waits for you to heal. You may want to lash out at those whose lives are going on without you because in the early days, you simply cannot participate in life, as a matter of fact, you can’t even force yourself to merge back into life.

After a time, you may become angry, and need something or someone to blame. If you were raised with a concept of a god who has been characterized as a healer, you may wonder why your god did not heal your child, and if that is the case, how can he/she heal you? I was angry at the god I had been conditioned to believe in. I yelled at him, told him exactly what was on my mind, even used expletives. I was hopping mad. If god was omnipotent, why, in the name of all that is holy, did he/she not work a miracle in my child’s life?

I think once you’ve been through the loss of a child, you develop a different concept of God. God, for you may become more prevalent in your healing process, and he/she may morph into what you need to move toward peace and acceptance. And for some, god becomes a myth. Your healing process is yours alone, and whatever you choose to be your rock is deeply personal.

I think it’s easier to blame an externality than it is to hold our children accountable for the choices they made. I contend, however, at some point those who struggle with addiction no longer have choices. Their bodies are prisoners to the disease, and they are irretrievably lost. A miracle, the one God didn’t work in your child’s life, did not happen, and it is the only thing that could have saved them; there was, however, the initial choice to use. I can’t blame the god of my understanding for that.

One of the most difficult, in my opinion, but necessary components of the healing process is to put some of the responsibility for your child’s death on him or her. To do this does not mean you don’t love them, or you have no empathy for their struggle with addiction that led to their death; it means you are willing to relinquish some of the blame you assign to yourself, and thus work toward your own healing.

I think being angry at ourselves, at God, at our child’s dealers, friends, your spouse, or society is so much easier than being mad at your child who has died from addiction. I know on the death certificates the cause of death is listed as “accidental”, and that is an accurate call, in my opinion. Did they mean to die? No, they did not. Their minds were so locked into using, not using was scarier than dying. I guess it is human nature to want someone to blame for when things go painfully wrong. I have blamed myself for nearly three years; perhaps it is time to accept that my son had some choice in the manner in which he died.

I have been angry with my son off and on for nearly the entirety of his departure from my life. He left behind a six-year-old son who will now grow up without a father, no male role model to teach him the ropes of life. I am angry about that. I am angry he left me to mourn his loss and to grieve for the rest of my natural life. I am angry because he had mad potential to be anything he wanted to be, but he died in his disease before he could bring his dreams to fruition. I am truly and honestly angry about that. He was beautiful and needs to be here with all of us who love him; but he is not.

Anger is not a place you want to stay, however. I think it’s healthy to allow anger toward your child to awaken you to the liberating truth that you are not wholly responsible for your son or daughter’s choice to use . As parents, it is natural to blame ourselves for not being able to save our children. But what it boils down to, in my opinion, is that we are angry with ourselves because we allowed our children to go out into the big, bad world without us holding their hands and leading them to safety. We think, “I had one job, to take care of my child, and I let him [her] down.” He or she is gone because we failed as parents, right? Nope.

Every grieving parent experiences the gamut of emotions differently, from rage to peace, and those emotions are unmercifully unpredictable. I’ve raged at the God of my understanding, because I didn’t want to be angry with my son. I raised my son up after his death to the status of a demigod, or at the very least, an angel. He was the love of my life, my only child. How could I possibly be angry with him? The painful reality is that he was human. He was beautiful, my shining star, but he was imperfect. He was moody, sometimes grumpy, often rude. He did not have the fortitude to say no to drugs. He was unkind during the eye of his storm. I was the reason he chose to use, he would say, and while I do assume some of the blame, it was he who chose to destroy himself with drugs and alcohol. Yes, of course, I have allowed my anger to be directed toward my demigod, my angel, my perfectly imperfect son, and that hurts, but if I am to heal, I must make absolutely certain that I not assume one-hundred percent of the blame.

I guess at some point we all have a choice to make. Do I want to be at peace with my child’s memory or do I want to stay angry and grow bitter? Bitterness is a choice, and I know we can do better than that. I have bursts of anger toward my son, and I have bursts of idealism about him. I love him to the ends of the earth, but to not assign him some of the blame is to not allow myself the relief of letting go of the blame I hold for myself, and it will only serve to stifle my ability to grow from the death of my child.

I have made myself sick by taking on all the blame. There is nothing good about being, and in particular, staying angry with yourself. I suggest that we let go of the anger as often as we can. When we become angry with our children, do it quickly and then – let it go. Don’t worry if you find yourself doing this several times over the course of your life; it’s a natural part of the grieving process. The important thing is to acknowledge our emotions, examine them, ask ourselves if they are helpful or hurtful, and if the latter, release them. We will catapult our healing process; I guarantee it.