I’ve gotten very good at screaming in the last few years. Oh, I don’t scream at my kids or anything, as a matter of fact, most of the time I try to make sure they’re not around when I do it so I don’t scare them. I have been known to fill up the kitchen sink with water and stick my head in to scream when they are around, though. It’s okay if they see that, it usually makes them laugh!

I have found that screaming and yelling somehow releases the pain of grief and allows me to take deep breaths again.  Sometimes I just scream, sometimes I yell questions at God (“Why would you do this to me?”), sometimes I yell at Ellis or B or my Dad (“Why did you leave me? I need you here!”), and sometimes I even shout out answers to myself…Yes, I’m aware that may be a sign that I’m losing my mind, but hey, I’ve earned the right!

During one of my most cathartic screaming and answering sessions (so far) I paced the floor. As I walked one way I’d scream a question at God. Then I’d turn and walk the other way and scream whatever popped into my head as the answer, even if it didn’t make sense. I’m sure that I looked ridiculous!  At some point, after I’d been pacing for a while, the image of B and Ellis looking down on me, laughing, nudging each other and talking about how crazy I looked popped into my head as an answer and I threw myself on my bed and laughed and cried at the same time. I was exhausted afterwards, but the feeling of relief, of being lighter in my spirit, was extraordinary…and I made it through yet another day.