Forgiveness Part 6: "Just Do It!" The Last of the Series.

Metamorphosis is worth it. 

I think I can, I think I can...

Sometimes I dont want to though. In fact, most of the time, I'd really rather not.

Untangling my memories of what happened and then trying to make sense of my ensuing grief has felt a little like trying to comb through hair matted with dreadlocks. Yeah, I can comb and pick at it until it's unsnarled...But who wants to? Not me.

Still, I've described my experiences in the days leading up to and following Roman's death. I told how each sequence of events unraveled my sense of wellbeing and normalcy with a swift series of figurative kicks to my psyche, until eventually I was left feeling fragmented.

It was difficult to live through, and at times no less difficult to look back on - let alone write about in detail. Now, I'm in a different place though, which is why I am able to look back at all. Triggers still pop up without warning.  They leave me reliving the anger, sadness, and confusion as I've said before, but for the most part, I live day to day just like anyone else.

For me, forgiveness is about allowing myself to feel whatever is brought up when grief revisits, but then remembering to let it go. Forgiveness, being a process, is about choosing not to perseverate on my pain. Conversely, it's also about choosing not to ignore it. Instead, to me, it's simply about accepting that things happened - good or bad - for a reason.

What reason...I don't know; though I certainly have my theories. And all of my thoughts about the purpose brings me back to something that is much larger than Roman, Erica, or me.

Forgiveness has allowed me to stop feeling victimized so that I could learn from my loss. I imagine I could easily have slipped into a self-defeating spiral of pity. But I know that would not do me, those around me, or Roman's legacy any good. Nor would it change what happened or give me any real sense of closure. Though, I have come to accept that Roman's final words to me were the closest I will come to "closure," when I pause to think about it, his words are less important to me. My words to him are where the closure actually is.

Roman repeatedly lied to me.

Not only that, I think he lied to himself up until the day he died. Specific words he did or didn't say hold little weight in the grand scheme. What matters to me is how I handled things. My behavior and my words are what have helped or haunted me the most.

Nowadays, I no longer ignore that tiny whispering voice in the back of my head. When it prompts me to act, I listen. It's simple intuition. We all have it, and I believe it is there to guide us. Ego, I think, is intuition's polar opposite. People do shitty things when guided by ego. They also justify their shitty actions with their warped perceptions created by their egos. Roman was no different.

So how could he possibly give me piece of mind? He couldn't. Not when he was alive and certainly not in death.

Roman was on his own path. He made his own choices. Many of his choices hurt me, but they do not define me. They only define him.

Recognizing that made it easier for me to finally tell my story, when for years I protected it. I protected him. Eventually that led me to a bearkdown. Protection led me to a breakdown...Ironic, yes. Though that is only because within that "protection" there was also denial of reality..and denial is exhausting, yet no less understandable.

It's easier to look away.

Painful memories are like looking at an eclipse, so over the years I did various rituals to skew my gaze. I held onto, then got rid of Roman's clothes. eBay kindly took the jewelry he gave me, including my engagement ring. I bought new clothes, threw away old ones, redecorated my apartment, went out with friends, started dating, and threw myself into my work. Likewise I read, wrote, cried, joked, watched TV, over-ate, prayed, cussed, vented, distracted myself, procrastinated, slept too much...you name it. No doubt, I've been carrying some "stuff" that I've tried to forget. Nonetheless, some actions brought reprieve in the moment and others did not. Mostly though, they simply gave me more ambivalence and prolonged the sting of looking into the sun.

The third anniversary of his death finally brought me the ability to scatter Roman's ashes. I'll probably share more about that process in a future post, but suffice it to say, my feelings were mixed. Scattered in tide pools about 30 miles from here, I havent worn the shoes I was wearing since that night. Those flip flops are still covered in sand from the Pacific and will forever remind me of letting his physical being go. It was sad and unsettling to me, even so long after the fact. That's what I mean about the lingering nature of grief.

I did what I needed to do...I "let go."

Mostly.

But not that instant. It's been gradual and I'm still working on it.

The three weeks that saw the loss of my marriage and Roman's life were traumatic. If it were as easy as scattering his ashes, saying a prayer, and as Nike says, choosing to "just do it," then I'd have "just done it" ages ago.

And I did...

Just as I continue to do. Oh, If only buying a new pair of shoes could do the trick..Well then I'd be set. True, rituals are helpful for letting go, but they are only part of the process. Denial too, has it's place. People who have not experienced trauma do not understand that.

Many mean well, but they simply do not know.

Bless them for that.

I wouldnt wish this kind of learning on anyone. Though sometimes I think that the most entitled among us are the ones in the most pain. The most ugly among us are often the ones struggling the most. And as a school psychologist, believe me when I say, I see some ugliness. But inner pain is no excuse for giving up, continuing to look away, and embracing nastiness. I don't want to leave that legacy behind when I'm gone. If given the choice, I often wonder if Roman would have too.

It is not easy, but I'd rather spend a lifetime learning to let go of my loud ego and accept the reality beyond my own eyes. I'd rather keep trying to forgive and do better than how I was done onto. To me that is truly kind. To me that is at the core of forgiveness. It's certainly, something that requires ongoing effort; much like living with loss while finding the strength to grow.

*****

That's all I have to say about forgiveness. My next blog post will continue unsnarling the heady tangled mess we call grief. But for now, I've finished wading through the dreadlock of forgiveness. Though, as one final comb through on this strand, instead of a song, I'd like to leave readers with one of my favorite pieces of writing. This pretty much says it all...

"Desiderata" by Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Forgiveness Part 5: Kindness Speaks in Whispers

A 2006 BMW 325i whispered more than "buy me!"

Roman's infidelity was my way out of a marriage I no longer wanted, with a person I, sadly, no longer believed in. That is why I was so quick to ignore my ranting ego and turn the other cheek toward an amicable separation when it was obvious that he was going to clutch onto his bogus "Borders" story like it was a child's security blanket. At the time, when he was still breathing, I could see that insecurity in him.

That's why I stopped pressing for the truth in favor of my own needs and instead looked toward the new life that lay ahead for me.

Emotionally, with an impending divorce, I was anxious but confident. In truth, at that time, I was primarily concerned about being financially secure. Especially since Roman talked me into buying a brand new car just three-weeks before he confessed his affair to me.

I needed a new car back then. Driving my old Honda Civic with 100,000 miles plus on it, 50 miles a day during my commute to and from work, was not going to last. Moving was not an option, and I was finally making money after finishing grad school.

I wanted the nicest car I could get, but also aimed to be realistic about what we  could afford. With that, I planned on getting a Jetta, though what I wanted was a 3 series BMW.

So, long story short, I got the BMW.

With two incomes, we could afford it without a problem. And everytime I mentioned getting the Jetta, Roman would say something like, "You don't want the Jetta...Get what you want!" Always...He said it constantly.

It was like I was trying to be sensible in satisfying a craving by eating a some Oreos, while he offered up a fudge sundae, saying "You know you want some..!!"

Uh, yeah.

Give me permission for an indulgence and I'll find it hard to resist even now. Back then..forget it.

And when Roman told me that he cheated, I realized that I had just bought that damn car. I knew better than to buy such an expensive car too, but I ignored my better judgement once again. What's more, I knew he was lying about hooking up with someone randomly at Borders. I knew in my gut that he had been encouraging me to buy the BMW when he was cheating all along. And that pissed me off.

It really...really pissed me off. Though actually, I was mad at myself for not listening to the voice in my head. The same voice that vaguely questioned if I could afford the car on my own, without Roman's financial support. A doubting thought which came to me in whispers..but was there regardless. In fact, when I applied for the loan to purchase my new car, at the last minute I changed my mind and went for the longer payment option. I told myself that Roman and I would still make the higher payments, but "just in case" I didn't want to be saddled to such a high monthly bill. Yeah, the question was there..

"Just in case.."

And the night Roman told me of his indiscretion, I thought my intuition was right. I figured I must have sensed a divorce in my future. Good thing I went for the lower payments! Nonetheless, I was pissed off at Roman for encouraging me to buy it when he had a secret troll under his bridge. Roman also knew better.

So honestly, before he died, I just wanted him to help pay off the car. If need be, that was the only thing I was willing to be a bitch about in the divorce. I felt he owed me that...And he conceded to my wish in our separation agreement, which I was happy about.

Up until that point, I just wanted to be okay financially. I knew I would be okay otherwise. I didnt see the need to be nasty over the break up. I simply wanted out. That's why I was amicable.

Though, I'm not exactly sure why I was prompted to go beyond that to the level of kindness that I expressed. All I know is I had a very slight whisper in my ear. It was faint, but thankfully I was listening because everything changed on November 6th, 2006 at 6:30 PM.

Everything.

Changed.

Now, I no longer value material objects like I once did. I also no longer hold back kind words.

Nowadays, If I think that someone is talented, interesting, or amazing in whatever way - I then I tell them outright. If those kinds of sentiments are what whisper in my ear, I never hold back.

Whether or not the other person will "get it" or will reciprocate is less of a concern for me now. Since I worry less about how I will be received by others, I actually have made more new friends than ever before. Likewise, I also have become more trusting of people in the days since Roman died. An ironic reaction to betrayal, I know. But I have my reasons...and surprisingly (or not), most people to rise to the occasion when given the chance.

I never needed to be so guarded in my earlier years. My reserve certainly did not protect me from heartbreak, disappointment, financial stress, or a life-altering series of proverbial roundhouse kicks to the heart, head, and gut. So, I let mistrust go along with Roman.

But undoing a trait that took a lifetime to develop is a process, just like grief...Just like forgiveness. It requires effort. Unfortunately, there's no magic "I'm not going to be shy, reserved, and guarded" switch I can just flip inside my brain. However, thankfully, the Universe also gives me nudges when it whispers. Those nudges come with momentum to move me along. They teach me how to be better when I listen to them.

All because I met and married a guy named Roman.

Of course I forgive.

Thao+The Get Down Stay Down, "Know Better Learn Faster"

Forgiveness Part 4: Would I Have Been Kind?

My ex-boyfriend and me at the first ever Coachella Festival in 1999.
Lessons from the past helped me forgive. 

Being left to make sense Roman's mess had me reeling after he died.

I was so angry after confronting his fling and discovered her to be so incredibly vile; words are just approximations to the experience. Language hardly comes close to conveying the depth of my fury after speaking to her. Anger ran so close to my core that I literally became nauseated when I recalled our conversation. Not surprising, in the days and weeks that followed, I couldn't eat, sleep, interact, think, or really live for all intents and purposes.

My emotions consumed me whole.

One way I coped at that time was by spending hoards of money on clothes from Anthropologie. My self-esteem had been annihilated, so indulging in pretty things was a source of comfort at the time. Being lied to and cheated on with someone of her character left me feeling worthless and disposable. Yet, while new clothes gave me a temporary sense of redemption, it did not last. Fortunately, raiding the racks at Anthroplogie wasn't my only means of coping back then. I also attended weekly counseling for a while.

Talking did little to lift the burden I felt, but I stuck with it nonetheless. I continued mostly because I didn't know what else to do with myself. It seemed like what I was supposed to do. So I did...with what seemed like minuscule benefit.

That is until my therapist asked me this simple question: "If you had known the complete truth about his affair, do you think your last words to him would have been the same?"

My first inclination when she posed the question was, "Yeah..of course!?" But in truth, the thought gave pause to my obsessive anger and started to grow in my head like a planted seed.

Through serious consideration, I came to the conclusion that I could not say for sure how I may have responded if I knew the truth before Roman died. In our last day together, I like to think I'd have said the same heartfelt things, but then I remember my ex - the one with whom I parted over a pointed, "fuck you..!!" I did not mince words in my final expression to him and he didn't cause anywhere near the heartbreak and frustration that Roman had. In the past I had reacted sharply to people who disappointed me and Roman most certainly let me down.

Easily, I could have allowed my final words to Roman to be harsh, not knowing that he was about to die. And once my therapist posed the $100,000 question, I knew that if my last words to Roman had been cutting, it would have haunted me far longer than my anger over his indiscretion. Rationally, I knew that the sting of his actions would fade with time, but consequences of my own words might not. Grief in-and-of-itself had left me with lingering guilt and doubt. If my final words to Roman would not have been what they were, I could conceivably have walked away with even less closure and more sorrow.

I could have walked away truly shattered as a person.

As I processed the variables over how my last exchange with Roman played out, my anger, sadness, and guilt gradually alleviated to a point where I could at least function. Part of the burden lifted from my shoulders as I accepted that things happened the way they did. Period. Wishing it could have been different or painting myself into a victim's corner was pointless.

I do not know why things happened the way they did. I will never know if I would have been kind to Roman if I knew the truth. I also do not know what might have become of him if he lived. Though I can now accept the reality as part of a larger plan. A plan that is bigger than Roman's lies and one that is bigger than my own ego.

In the years since he passed, I have struggled with grief; though consciously, I have accepted that things happened the way that they did for a reason. It is a reason that I am not necessarily meant to know right now. That's okay. Acceptance of the plan gives me perspective in moments when old wounds are scratched. It has allowed me to let go of Roman's ghost and of many of my own regrets. But no doubt, it has been an ongoing process.

Today I am a better person for having known him. In a way I am grateful for that because much good has come in the wake of his death.

And never again will my last words to someone be "fuck you." Life is too short and uncertain...No disappointment from another person is worth that level of burden.

I forgive Roman. Thankfully the Universe prompted me to let him know before he left.

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Forgiveness Part 3: Character and a Complicated Legacy

Roman just being Roman. Hawaii, 2002.

While at times funny, generous, and conscientious - Roman possessed a personality streak that I considered mean and inconsiderate. It was also a side of him for which he made no apologies.

About a week before he gave the news of his affair, I received an online code for a free iTunes download. A few times he mentioned that he really liked Bauhaus' version of "Ziggy Stardust," so I used my freebie to get him the song. When I told him about it, he responded, "what'd you do that for..??" To which I retorted something to the effect of, "when someone gives you something, you are supposed to say 'thank you'...!!" But that's just how Roman was. He was not an outwardly sentimental guy.

I remember the day he dropped the bomb; earlier in the day we went to the grocery store. We had just loaded the car with our bags when we were about to drive away. As we backed out of the parking space, a man was returning his cart to the front of the store.

Roman commented , "Look at that guy..! Look at him...his hair...! Look how he walks..!"

Roman was implying that the guy looked stupid with his hair and his gait. There was a tone to his words that suggested judgmental delight. I did not see why Roman was so compelled to speak like that about a complete stranger.

"What's wrong with him? He's just a regular guy...what's the big deal..??" I was irritated, but it was nothing new.

Roman spoke like that often. Sometimes I defended the person in question like I did that day. Other times not. I think the only reason I remember that particular instance is because of the day in which it occurred. Likewise, it was when I started to realize that his confession of infidelity was my way out, that I reflected his recent comments at the store, and his crap reply when I gave him the Ziggy Stardust song.

I was DONE!

Not surprisingly, it was the side of him - the side I disliked - that found a connection outside of the marriage.

Believe it or not, there is part of me now that is mournful on his behalf over never getting to fully realize whatever potential could have been in his extramarital relationship. By that, I mean there was a side to Roman that I found downright offensive. Yet there was someone out there who not only liked that side of him, she also identified with it proudly. There is a part of me that regrets he did not go on to see what would have become of their "connection" that she boasted about so emphatically.

Make no mistake...at times I boil with anger over his behavior and how he treated me. However, as I have said repeatedly, my grief is messy. This is one example of how convoluted I feel at times. Sometimes, I grieve for what could have become of his life. Roman was so bright. I truly feel he was short changed in the end.

If he sincerely did find his soul mate with that girl, there is a side of me that says, "more power to them!"

Though that said, I do wish he would have been more honorable in his pursuits...Which brings me to another fork in the road of this multi-pronged process.

Why would he have been more honorable?

Up until the day he died, Roman simply behaved as the person he was. Lacking empathy for people. Ironically, human.

Roman placated me in our relationship and put others down routinely. He showed his colors in his time with me. The character I find myself longing for now is the same one I sought during our marriage. If he would have demonstrated that kind of being in life, then this entire blog would likely not exist, nor would the blessings that have come to me in the days since his death. My life following his passing would have been very different.

Moreover, being of the nature I was at that time, I certainly would not have been inclined to open up to the world about my experience. Not only would the thought have terrified me, I imagine it also would have seemed pointless. Instead though, now talking about Roman's life and legacy gives new meaning to it.

Roman's mistakes left me holding the bag so to speak. Yet, forgiveness gives purpose to my grief so that I may use it for a greater good. I'm using it and people are benefiting. People contact me all the time to let me know. And that is what is now becoming of Roman's legacy.

What an enormous gift he left behind.

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• Being Angry At A Dead Person For Dying (sunnysingstheblues.blogspot.com)
• Roman's First Collapse (sunnysingstheblues.blogspot.com)
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Forgiveness Part 2: Actions In Retrospect

Getting our marriage licence the day before we got married. The looks on our faces say it all.
"We're doing what..??"

"Cold feet" is a good way to sum up my feelings about my wedding day.

I was anxious and doubtful. Of course, I was always anxious and doubtful, not just when it came to marrying Roman. I suppose that is why I ignored the voice in my head that screamed at me to consider what a potentially huge mistake I was making. That stupid voice was always chattering on about something though, so I had gotten pretty good at tuning it out when I felt that another person's logic was better suited to the situation. I did not trust myself.

Roman was so smart and rational; he was very easy to trust when it came to reason. Although, in retrospect, when looking at this picture of Roman and I taking an oath when applying for our marriage licence, I think it's safe to say that I was not the only one with doubts.

But we both had our roles in the relationship. I was the worry wart. Roman was the problem solver.

If he expressed his doubts to me about getting married, well then, he would have been stepping out of his designated space. Who knows how I would have reacted. He probably knew that, so he carried on with the plan and maintained his duty as the steady one in the relationship. I too carried on with the plan, choosing to ignore my own uncertain inklings, which I simply chalked up as irrational.

In retrospect now, I see that was not being neurotic. My fears were valid.

Roman and I had some serious communication issues that I couldn't put my finger on in the beginning. It wasn't until a couple years into the marriage that I really saw our disconnect clearly. But by then, I was invested...It was too late to walk away. Counseling was an option we had discussed, but never pursued. We had become complacent and I had gotten masterful at ignoring my better judgement. Which brings me to the point of this post.

They say that how a person copes with change depends greatly on what they were like before the event took place. I think about that a lot as I wonder about how I handled news of Roman's affair. While I have always been a reserved, shy, outwardly stoic person, I have never had trouble expressing my pointed anger to anybody who crossed me.

Two instances come to mind offhand. One was in high school when I confronted my neighbor for spreading rumors about me around campus. He lied and told people that he could hear me having sex with my boyfriend in my room, which was adjacent to his bedroom by just a few feet. After enough friends at school told me what he was saying, I went next door to tell him to stop. Only, when he was face to face with me, he wouldn't admit to his actions, so I slapped him in a fury right across his lying face. I slapped him so hard that my hand stung. He started to cry as he ran into his house. He also never said a word again about me at school.

Another instance that comes to mind is my pointed way of breaking up with a long-term boyfriend whom I'd dated before I met Roman. Without going into tremendous detail, we went out for about two years on and off. I never felt that I had his full attention, so during one phone conversation when I'd had enough of feeling ignored by him, I snapped angrily "Fuck you!" as I slammed down the phone. With that, the relationship was officially done. We didn't speak again until six years later, after Roman died, when I called him to apologize for my lack of tact in ending things with him.

At the time though, a reaction like that was not unusual for me. Reacting with force to people who upset me was how I ensured that my reserve would not be mistaken for weakness. It was not a tactic I used often, but when I did, my words and ensuing actions were definitely felt by my target. I was like that up until the day Roman died.

So for me to decide quickly that I wanted to part ways with Roman amicably, even after knowing that he was unfaithful, and knowing in my gut that he was still lying, it came as a surprise even to me. My tongue could be sharp and my precisely chosen words could cut. Yet, even on the night that he dropped the bomb about his indiscretion, I was angry and I let him know, but I didn't lash out at him like I would have in the past.

For some reason, I held back.

And what's even more vexing is why I turned the other cheek so quickly after I finished expressing my hurt. The ego can be a monster that could have easily allowed me to become an angry, bitter, betrayed ex-wife at that time. But that was not how I was nudged to respond. In fact, quite the opposite was my inclination. The last time that I saw Roman, I told him I loved him. I told him I was going to be okay. I wished him well. I wanted to hug him but didn't out of fear of looking weak. Perhaps I had simply matured and recognized my ability to react with kindness as a strength.

But why then?

Why that day?

For me, that is where the larger plan comes into focus and that little voice that was in my head, which I long ignored as irrational and neurotic, suddenly found it's place in my daily being.

Forgiveness: The First of a Few to Come..

Honolulu. August 2002. 

Sometimes I just don't feel like talking about it. Actually, most of the time I don't. Like the subject of forgiveness; it's something that I have embraced, but similar to the experiences surrounding Roman's loss, my thoughts about it are very deep and even more scattered. I have six pages written about forgiveness that I started about two months ago.  I have done everything short of burying it in the yard to avoid digging in and finishing it. Although it doesn't seem to matter how much I do or don't want to think about it - inevitably, somehow it manages to surface in it's own terms anyway.

During those times, it helps me to give it some real thought as I write it all out. Putting pen to paper in a stream of consciousness makes the future emotional hoops a little bit easier to scale, while helping making peace with the ghosts that haunt me from my past. Ghosts not only of Roman's actions, which I have struggled to make sense of, but also actions of my own.

Forgiveness is not just about letting go of the grief that Roman left me with, but also embracing the Universe's plan, while also letting go of the guilt I have clutched over my personal regrets. It's complicated to say the least. At times I am angry.

The times when I feel damaged - reduced to tears because I feel like the world is about to crumble beneath my feet. On the rare occasions that I argue with my boyfriend, Chris, and break down into anxious hand flapping sobs because I fear he will leave without warning. Those nights when I dream about being abandoned or when I can't sleep because my wheels are spinning. Or on mornings when I wake up in tears because I no longer recognize myself; even all this time later. Those times when I grow impatient waiting for my new normal to finally arrive or when I hear stories that hit unexpectedly close to home. When I see a man who reminds me of Roman and I feel too uncomfortable to so much as glance in his direction. Those are the times that I have to remind myself of the process of forgiveness.

"It happened. Deal with it" I say to myself.

How?

Well...that part is not as easy, but thinking of it in symbolic terms helps me process it easier.

It feels like Roman left me holding a figurative bag of fertilizer. Fertilizer can be used by angry people to make bombs. Sure, I could be nasty and entitled and take my anger out on the living by blowing up on them on my bad days. But I don't. I could also stand idly without moving forward, holding the stinky bag of crap, and whine about how bad it smells. Okay, I have had my moments..I admit. I do complain sometimes, but I try not to indulge too often. Instead consciously, what I try to do, is use my grief to foster new growth. That is what this blog is intended to do. And embracing the opportunity to use my grief for cultivating something worthwhile is ultimately what drives my ability and willingness to forgive, even when it's difficult. It is what I use to remind myself that things happen for reasons I cannot comprehend, but can accept nonetheless.

His willful actions hurt me, but his was his unwillful ones that broke part of me.

But I know that Roman didn't mean to die. Obviously.

He didn't know that his thoughtless indiscretions would be his last. Roman had many good qualities, but at times being married to him was tough. And truth be told, if he hadn't died, I would almost have been relieved that he cheated on me because it was my "out" of the marriage. I had often thought about leaving him, but I didn't because of my vows. Words I spoke that day on the beach, which later felt like an albatross at times. There were moments when I wondered what I was thinking by marrying him. It's those moments, along with my doubt when we stood before the justice of the peace, that came to haunt me with guilt after he died.

At the time of my wedding, I found myself fighting doubt more than embracing my new life. I hate to admit it, but honestly I wondered if I was making a huge mistake. Not a good sign. Certainly not thoughts a bride should be having, if years of wedded bliss are in her future.

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Being Angry At A Dead Person For Dying

Image via Wikipedia

Some days I wish I never met Roman, let alone married him. Especially when I go through bouts of prolonged depression like as of late, when nothing I do, say, write, think, or eat (I equate carbs with love) makes a bit of difference in lifting my emotional malaise.

Recently I wrote an entry about the role of forgiveness in my healing process. I have been reluctant to post it though because something about it felt off. So for about a week I labored over it, being unable to pinpoint the problem. The post is honest like most of what I try to write, which is why I struggled to identify the issue I have with it. Then it finally hit me.

I realized tonight that authenticity is not my concern. Instead, I think that talking solely about forgiveness alone seems to suggest that I am free of anger; a vexing component I grapple with often - and one I think deserves recognition in it's own right in order for any discussion about letting go to hold water. For me, the topic of forgiveness in isolation comes across as being too linear; particularly when attempting to approximate the process in writing.

In truth, anger regularly creeps up from deep down to remind me just how pissed off I am at Roman, even though I also simultaneously forgive him for being fallible. And as such, anger is part of an emotional paradox that significantly colors the aftermath of my loss.

I have mentioned in prior posts how complicated people leave behind complicated legacies and how complicated legacies lead to complicated grief. For me, one of the most entangled aspects of my grief for Roman relates not only to my resentment over how he treated me, but also my snarled indignation at him for dying. In dying, he abandoned me for a second time..an act I find difficult on some level to reconcile. At times, the struggle is stifling. Most notably, when I think I am ready to completely forgive.

Rationally I know that Roman did not have a choice in the matter. He did not choose to die in the same way that he chose to live. On the surface I know this.

And knowing makes my anger feel selfish, which in turn stalls my healing...leaving me frozen with guilty ambivalence. Yet logical or not - at times, I feel angry.

Even so, I can honestly say that I accept the way things unfolded because of the gifts that have found me in the wake of his death. Rationally, I can both reason how I managed to let go of aspects of my heartbreak, while also acknowledging the existence of concurrent burning inside me from time to time. And it is during my angry times, depending on the trigger, that I sometimes wish I could go back and change the course of my life and make different choices. As much as I would rather not admit it, at times, I long for what else could have been. And in truth, sometimes I actually regret knowing that Roman ever existed. Just as Roman was complex, so too is my grief for him.

While I have made peace with many of the errs he made in life, I would be remiss to discuss my path to forgiveness without first exploring my muddy resentment toward him for dying. I realize that misplaced anger is par for the gnarled course, so I appreciate that short of flipping a magical switch, there is no easy way to contend with it. I mean really, how does one contend with anger toward a dead person?

I'm still looking for the answer, though I realize it is part of a larger process. Consciously I see that there is much to be learned from Roman's life and loss. Still, like it or not - I'm also angry. This is all part of grieving, I know. Yet nevertheless, there are times when honestly, I wish I didn't.

Related articles

• Regret, Peace and Forgiveness: A Case to Consider (psychologytoday.com)
• The Power of Releasing Resentments: A Holiday and New Year's Gift to Yourself and Others (psychologytoday.com)