Rage can indeed have a place at the end of life and in grief. Rage that someone had to die too soon, as your mother did. Rage that a vibrant life was interrupted. Rage when a loved one faces a violent or traumatic death. Rage when there is no answer large enough for the question, “Why them? Why now?”
Death is not always roses and violins. Would that it were.
And yet, as you so beautifully name, there is no single “right” response. Some people meet death with surrender. Some with resistance. Some with fury. Some with peace. Many with all of it braided together.
Thank you for making room for rage as part of the human truth of grief.
I never felt rage when I lost my children—only numbness, profound sorrow, and grief. I lost an infant, and years later, my 33-year-old son, who left behind two little boys, just 2 and 3 years old.
Grief doesn’t disappear. It simply changes over time, ebbing and flowing. Some days it’s quiet, and other days it crashes over you without warning.
When I lost my husband and my father, I felt something different. Along with the sadness, there was a sense of peace and relief because their suffering had finally ended. There was still grief, of course, but never rage.
Everyone experiences loss differently. This has simply been my experience.
Denise, I’m so sorry to hear about the deaths of your children. And you’re right: sometimes rage isn’t present, and we only experience numbness or profound sorrow. Relief is another one too. Grief is different for everyone.
Rage seems to me to be a more descriptive and apt term than anger. Some deaths we move on from and some stick with us in a variety of ways forever. My mother died at 46 in an auto accident, in 1982 when I was 21, and never a day passes that I do not think of her and the unfairness of her passing so young. I also understand, that the universe does not care about my feelings, nor about "fairness".
Now as I have aged into my mid-60's and have had several close friends and family die the past few years, I find myself thinking more about my own mortality and what I still want to experience. Your writings are very well done and help me ponder the inevitability of it all. Thank you!
I'm so sorry to hear about your mother and am with you on the rage vs anger distinction. Glad to have you here, and appreciate you reading and sharing your perspective. I prefer contemplating mortality together.
My father passed away at 57 when I was 17. My anger perhaps not rage has never ebbed, I miss him terrible and that I never got to know the man or he of me throughout decades of life. I often think my life would have been different had he been around longer. He took a lot of photos and home movies which o had transferred to vhr and then to CD. Each iteration was blurrier than the previous. Someone helped me export to mo4 about 10 years ago. I think his rage and anger exceeded mine. It affected my mom and sister in different ways than me. I just thought this morning our last Father’s Day was my senior year of high school and I probably wanted to hang out with my friends not my father. That makes me sad.
Losing a parent so young is a particular kind of grief, including all the versions of your life that might have been. I think about that too, all the paths my life might have taken if my mom were still alive. It reminds me of the novel Midnight Library by Matt Haig.
We can't help that we were just kids being kids when they died.
I used to experience rage with the surrender. My father died at 59. Since then, life and death have taught me the path of surrender, and agency. I’ve become, as Francis Weller frames it, an apprentice to grief. Thank you for the share.💝
My father's dying inspired in me the writing of my memoir of that experience: Daddy, This Is It. Being-with My Dying Dad. In the end, he was peaceful and brought forth peace and acceptance in his loved ones. But he too raged at first at the news that he was dying. He felt that he had more life in him. I am grateful I was blessed to share his dying with him. Many readers say the book is a how-to for conscious dying.
Julie, I'm so sorry about your dad. How beautiful that the experience inspired you to create something others can learn from. Do you have a link to the book? I'd love to check it out.
This spring, I have been experiencing a resurgence of symptoms associated with chronic disease. If new treatments don’t alleviate the symptoms, I can see myself gladly surrendering to death in the near future. If I had children or a career/vocation to which I felt a deep commitment, I would likely be filled with rage now. Presently, I experienced negative emotions, but most equanimity passes through me.
Susan, I'm glad you've found some equanimity in managing a resurgence of symptoms associated with your chronic disease. That's wonderful. Just know if that changes, that's okay too.
Maura, I so appreciate this reflection.
Rage can indeed have a place at the end of life and in grief. Rage that someone had to die too soon, as your mother did. Rage that a vibrant life was interrupted. Rage when a loved one faces a violent or traumatic death. Rage when there is no answer large enough for the question, “Why them? Why now?”
Death is not always roses and violins. Would that it were.
And yet, as you so beautifully name, there is no single “right” response. Some people meet death with surrender. Some with resistance. Some with fury. Some with peace. Many with all of it braided together.
Thank you for making room for rage as part of the human truth of grief.
Judy, thank you for reading and sharing this beautiful reflection on what it brought up for you.
I never felt rage when I lost my children—only numbness, profound sorrow, and grief. I lost an infant, and years later, my 33-year-old son, who left behind two little boys, just 2 and 3 years old.
Grief doesn’t disappear. It simply changes over time, ebbing and flowing. Some days it’s quiet, and other days it crashes over you without warning.
When I lost my husband and my father, I felt something different. Along with the sadness, there was a sense of peace and relief because their suffering had finally ended. There was still grief, of course, but never rage.
Everyone experiences loss differently. This has simply been my experience.
Denise, I’m so sorry to hear about the deaths of your children. And you’re right: sometimes rage isn’t present, and we only experience numbness or profound sorrow. Relief is another one too. Grief is different for everyone.
Rage seems to me to be a more descriptive and apt term than anger. Some deaths we move on from and some stick with us in a variety of ways forever. My mother died at 46 in an auto accident, in 1982 when I was 21, and never a day passes that I do not think of her and the unfairness of her passing so young. I also understand, that the universe does not care about my feelings, nor about "fairness".
Now as I have aged into my mid-60's and have had several close friends and family die the past few years, I find myself thinking more about my own mortality and what I still want to experience. Your writings are very well done and help me ponder the inevitability of it all. Thank you!
I'm so sorry to hear about your mother and am with you on the rage vs anger distinction. Glad to have you here, and appreciate you reading and sharing your perspective. I prefer contemplating mortality together.
My father passed away at 57 when I was 17. My anger perhaps not rage has never ebbed, I miss him terrible and that I never got to know the man or he of me throughout decades of life. I often think my life would have been different had he been around longer. He took a lot of photos and home movies which o had transferred to vhr and then to CD. Each iteration was blurrier than the previous. Someone helped me export to mo4 about 10 years ago. I think his rage and anger exceeded mine. It affected my mom and sister in different ways than me. I just thought this morning our last Father’s Day was my senior year of high school and I probably wanted to hang out with my friends not my father. That makes me sad.
Losing a parent so young is a particular kind of grief, including all the versions of your life that might have been. I think about that too, all the paths my life might have taken if my mom were still alive. It reminds me of the novel Midnight Library by Matt Haig.
We can't help that we were just kids being kids when they died.
Thank you. I just got his book How to Stop Time. Haven’t sat it yet and not sure I have read any of his work. ❤️
I want to read that one!
I used to experience rage with the surrender. My father died at 59. Since then, life and death have taught me the path of surrender, and agency. I’ve become, as Francis Weller frames it, an apprentice to grief. Thank you for the share.💝
Mitra, thank you for this perspective. The journey from rage to surrender is not an easy one. Grateful you shared it.
My father's dying inspired in me the writing of my memoir of that experience: Daddy, This Is It. Being-with My Dying Dad. In the end, he was peaceful and brought forth peace and acceptance in his loved ones. But he too raged at first at the news that he was dying. He felt that he had more life in him. I am grateful I was blessed to share his dying with him. Many readers say the book is a how-to for conscious dying.
Julie, I'm so sorry about your dad. How beautiful that the experience inspired you to create something others can learn from. Do you have a link to the book? I'd love to check it out.
https://www.amazon.com/Daddy-This-Being-Dying-Dad/dp/B08NYT6JHL/
Thank you for your interest, Maura.
This spring, I have been experiencing a resurgence of symptoms associated with chronic disease. If new treatments don’t alleviate the symptoms, I can see myself gladly surrendering to death in the near future. If I had children or a career/vocation to which I felt a deep commitment, I would likely be filled with rage now. Presently, I experienced negative emotions, but most equanimity passes through me.
Susan, I'm glad you've found some equanimity in managing a resurgence of symptoms associated with your chronic disease. That's wonderful. Just know if that changes, that's okay too.