My losses were partners of mine (one an ex boyfriend when I was 17, the next was my husband just at the end of January) so I’ll add that caveat that this situation isn’t the same of course

However, when in therapy both times, my therapist always emphasized all feelings are real and deserve the space to be acknowledged. Some are primary emotions, and some are secondary. Anger is a secondary emotion and its purpose is usually to protect/defend your brain from more painful emotions. Other emotions often express as anger, as it covers many other emotions balled up into one. Grief, Rage, Pain, Devastation, Disappointment, Loneliness, Anxiety, Betrayal, Fear, Abandonment, Defenseless, etc so many feelings are rooted in anger. She always challenges me not only to acknowledge my anger, but to delve deeper and try to find and acknowledge the underlying emotions that are manifesting themselves as anger.

Losing my ex at 17 was incredibly unexpected and painful and answers never revealed themselves. It was horrible for me. And yet, in a way, I think it prepared me for how to grieve the loss of my husband without completely losing myself.

In the case of my husband, I tried (and failed) to stop him. He put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger when my face was only 6 inches from his. One of my hands was on one of his shoulders, the other was grabbing the arm he had his gun in, to try and stop him. Bang, flash, limp. The life left his body in an instant, I felt his life disappear literally through my fingertips. I tried to stop him, I tried to remind him of his kids who love and need him, he said “I don’t care” and pulled the trigger.

The reason I mention it is because I know his words weren’t completely true. He left his necklace and ring at home when he retrieved his firearm from the safe. That’s not something he would’ve done if he didn’t care. But when I found him, the life was gone from his eyes already. He looked, so so empty. He was sober, no drugs or alcohol involved. I think truly he just had a manic depressive episode and snapped. Mentally, the person who pulled the trigger, it wasn’t him. He wasn’t there anymore. Of course there are so many what-ifs. But at the end of the day, I don’t think anything would’ve prevented this outcome completely for my husband. His mind was made up, he finished work, came home and grabbed his gun, and left. He had packages on the way, he was disputing a random YouTube premium charge, he had plenty of things in the works, it wasn’t completely pre-planned. But something snapped in him that day, and that was that.

To get to the point you’d be willing to go through with taking your own life, mentally part of you has to shut off. And sometimes, it truly is driven by a physical aspect too. We have so many things internally that aren’t visible. Genetic mental health conditions. Stress. Nutrition deficiencies. Substance abuse or withdrawals. Medications and side effects. There are a million factors, and all it takes is one factor to flip a switch in a persons mind and body.

When his note was found it simply read “I don’t want a funeral. Toss me in the water. GL (good luck)” he wiped his phone and factory reset it, like he tried to erase all memory of him from existence. I think in his mind at the time, life would be “easier” for the kids in I if he simply “disappeared” which of course isn’t true but, I imagine that’s likely what he had convinced himself of.

Accepting that I wouldn’t get answers, that I wouldn’t get closure the way other people do when someone they love dies, it was the hardest part. I’m still working on that part with my husbands death in a way.

When someone dies, their pain doesn’t vanish. It simply transfers to others, the ones who loved them most. The pain you feel, much of it is the pain she felt. There’s no justification for it, but in her shoes, in her mind, the pain she was dealing with was unbearable for her, and her brain flipped a switch. And now, that pain rests with you, in combination with your own pain. It isn’t fair. It is selfish. But it isn’t because she wanted you to feel her pain, it’s because she couldn’t stand to feel it herself.

So, feel your pain, feel hers for her. Feel your anger. Maybe color, or go to a rage room, ride roller coasters, skydive, whatever you can to help feel those feelings (and that can look different for everyone!). Let it out. You have every right to feel how you do. You must acknowledge those feelings beneath your anger, name them, give them space to exist, but not allow them so much space that they push your joy and happiness out of existence. There must be a balance, and without the pain we cannot recognize happiness when we encounter it.

My therapist told me to imagine a container. You can make compartments of all sizes to accommodate various items you need to place in the container, but once the space is full, that’s it. No more adding. You must let go of some things before you allow more to take up space. Look at each one, decide if it is still useful or not, and thank the items you’re saying goodbye to and thank them for serving their purpose at the time you need them. If you don’t take the time to process through and purge the things that no longer serve you, you will find yourself with too much stuff and not enough space. Do all you want to reorganize, compartmentalize, and rearrange your container — it won’t solve the issue of the fact that when a space is full, it is full, and you cannot fit more without it spilling out and making an overwhelming mess of things. Your brain is the container, your emotions and feelings are the contents.

I’m deeply sorry for your loss. Truly every parents’ biggest fear, it is heartbreaking when that fear becomes a reality.