Grief

Texas Longhorn

Just when I thought I had left the worse grief behind me, in the most in opportune time both my grief and anger disgorged from my mouth at an unwitting victim, my niece. It wasn't her fault but my wounds were fresh like a lanced bull in bull ring. I wanted to lunge at everyone, any cape would do.  My head was lowered and like the bull I was prepared to fight anything and anyone in my vicinity. This bull was wounded by the pain of loss. My horns were ready to tear into flesh.

My family lost its matriarch. I had kept busy trying to be strong at her funeral. Remarkably the sadness and tears that I had shared with you simply were stifled by the responsibility I felt I owed my sisters, my father, my wife, my children , relatives, and friends.  I was stoic and emotionally constipated.  It was all good I thought.  I believed that it was the right thing to do.

An unsuspecting niece received the venom that inexplicable grief had fermented within me instead of tears.  I wanted in the worst way to let my pain out.  I lost my mother.  Yes she was old but I was not ready to simply forget her or the rest of the relatives that meant so much. I  wanted to fight and argue her old fashioned ways.  I was indignant by the callousness of youth and jealous that I have less years ahead of me than they do.  I was enraged by the bitterness and inequity I felt.  I had been equally calloused in my youth too but now it was my turn to mourn.

This bull was prepared to lower his head and defend the honor of the matriarch and that of her family.  My nostrils widened and I could sense the rush of adrenalin go through me.   It didn't matter wrong or right the wound was oozing fresh and I was prepared to charge as if that would ameliorate or dull the wound.  In a flurry of minutes I charged and released my emotionally charged venom.   I ached;  my body was bruised and my heart had been lanced by the picador of death.

My rage was beyond even my own comprehension.  I had lashed out against those that I loved most.  We drove back to the hotel in dead silence of the night. I searched inside my own soul and knew that bull' rage needed to be quieted.  Off I drove to visit with mom. In the shadows of night. I stood in front of her mausoleum and begged for her forgiveness for holding back the tears and anger at her funeral.   While I wanted to celebrate her life and longevity I did her a disservice by not allowing the tears to flow. We spoke and I expressed my grief.  The silence of the night gave me an opportunity to once and for all announce underneath the stars that I loved her the most. She I recognized loved us all the same but each in her own way.

The bull in me is tame now and gentle again.  I doubt that will ever again attempt to contain raw emotion.  It has to come out or else it consumes you.