A Mourning Mom

Anger

As human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world — that is the myth of the atomic age — as in being able to remake ourselves. – Gandhi

Anger.  It is the 2nd stage of grief according to Elisabeth Kübler-Ross.  At the time of Jake’s and Sawyer’s deaths I do not specifically remember feeling anger.  Perhaps there was no room for anger because the stages of denial, bargaining and depression seemed to have trapped me.  However, anger creeps into my life at unexpected times.

I was waiting in line with one of the twins so that she could sit in a fire truck.  We were patiently waiting our turn.

We were in line behind a very cute girl with Down syndrome.  She was not so sure about climbing up the stairs of the fire truck.  The fireman offered to help her but she wanted to do it herself.

I asked the woman with the girl in front of us in line how old she was.  She responded, “She is my daughter’s girl and she is 8.”  I wanted to say something back to her like “You mean she is your granddaughter?”  I remained silent.  Jake would have been 7.  Would he have liked fire trucks?

My little girl began to ask repeatedly, “When is it my turn?” My silence broke to reassure her that, “It is your turn next.”

The woman with the girl, looked at my daughter who at this point was jumping up and down as she continued to whine about her turn, pointed towards her granddaughter and said “This will really teach you patience.”  And there it was – anger.  I was angry at this grandmother.  I have not walked in her shoes.  I do not know the first thing about her life but I was angry.  The voice inside my head wanted to explain to her that I too had a Down syndrome child but he died.  He died before I got the chance to learn that level of patience.  I once again remained silent.