I am so mad that he is not here anymore. I am not so much mad at him. Even though I do have every right to be mad at him. If he would have just listened. Just understood my fear of him on a motorcycle, maybe, just maybe he would still be here. But I'm not mad at him, because who knows. If he were to have been in his car, who can say that the accident wouldn't have still killed him. I can't be mad because riding his motorcycle made him happy.
I am so mad at the man who killed him. I have said it a million times. Michael was 23. This man was 81. He lived his whole life. Michael was just starting his. This man will never pay for what he did either. He will never go to jail for killing Michael. He will never really have to live long enough to feel the full amount of remorse and guilt that one should carry for killing another. I am also so mad that this man took his life. Michael will never be honored by society the way he should be. Because he didn't die in the line of fire, he won't be recognized for serving his country the way others are. This man took that away from him too. If Michael had to die, I would much rather him die in Iraq or Afghanistan and let him die in honor instead of being killed by an old man in San Diego.
I am so mad at my brain for working again. For allowing me to feel. I want to take a vacation from myself. From being a widow. From feeling the pain of losing Michael. Just a day of not thinking or feeling. It's so frustrating when I don't feel anything, when I am numb. But it really does suck when I feel it. It's like someone stabbing a hot branding iron through my heart and some how the fire from the iron runs through my veins in my blood to the rest of my body. It never really goes away either. The pain has only gotten worse. I am just waiting for it to actually stop my heart. But it never does.
Can you die from a broken heart? Like the dog in "where the red fern grows".
I get so mad when I see moms with young babies. Pictures of weddings. Husbands coming home from a deployment. Wives bitching about their husbands being away. When people brag to me about how well their marriage is going. When people bitch to me about how bad things in their marriage. I get mad when people ask me about Michael's dog tags that I wear. I know being mad at all of these things is irrational, but I guess it's just apart of the aftermath of losing someone as close as Michael was to me.
Nonetheless, I am just mad. I have every right to be mad too.