“Anger is not the enemy of healing — it’s a signal that love was real and something precious was taken.”
No one prepares you for the rage that can come with grief.
The frustration that they’re gone.
The fury at what was left unsaid, what never got to happen.
The sharp ache of injustice — why them? why now?
You may even feel angry at them for leaving.
Or at yourself, for not doing more.
Let it come.
Anger is not a detour from grief. It’s part of the road.
You are not broken for feeling it. You are not less spiritual, less kind, less ‘evolved.’
You are human.
And beneath every angry thought is something tender — a longing, a loss, a wound that wanted more time.
Today, let yourself feel the heat without shame.
Anger doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving. It means you cared deeply enough to be wounded by absence.
Sit somewhere private. Inhale deeply through your nose, hold for four counts, then exhale sharply through your mouth. Picture your anger as a flame — not to destroy, but to illuminate. Ask: 'What part of my heart is this protecting?'
Write an unfiltered letter that begins with: 'I’m angry because...' Don’t censor yourself. Let every feeling out. You can tear it up after — or keep it. What matters is you speak it.
Jo M. “I thought anger wasn’t 'allowed' in grief. But I was furious — at cancer, at God, at everything. Writing it out helped. I didn’t need to hide it anymore. It didn’t make me love him less. It just made me human again.”
Let your anger breathe. It’s one more way your love is learning to live without answers.