The way we Americans talk about the stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance) makes them seem like a linear process, but the experience of grief is anything but direct. Labyrinthine would be a better word, perhaps. Recursive is also not inappropriate.
For most of the last year, I've just been sad. Not really depressed, not bargaining, not in denial, just sad.
Lately, though, I'm angry.
I'm angry at Adam.
I hate all the tasks that are suddenly my job.
I'm frustrated by the estate process.
I resent my continued responsibility for Adam's things when he is no longer here to be my partner.
Adam's forgetfulness and his disorganization, the things that always drove me crazy, are still problems, but his wisdom and helpfulness no longer mitigate them.
This last year, for the first time, I felt like my marriage had compromised my career, and I'm not even married anymore.
I'm angry that he left me. He reneged on our deal.
I know that Adam's death was an accident, and that he didn't leave me by choice. Really, I do. But grief is not rational. Logic is not operative in this wilderness, and, in truth, there are far worse targets for my anger than someone who is not here to feel it.
I get to be angry.