I'm angry..

I don't even know what to tell you.
How to put these days into sentences.

It's hard to give borders of meaning to the insurmountable loss we are staring down.
I've tried.
For two years.. I've tried.
I've metaphorically painted pictures of this cancer and how it's tearing my heart out.
I've verbalized the idea of loss and the flip side of eternity.
I've waxed lyrical about the journey.
You've heard me.
You've listened.

And tonight I have so many things to say but I can find no words.
Just this:
He's dying and I don't want him to.
I'm angry.
He's heartbroken.
I'm heartbroken too.
But mainly angry.
And not raging, table flipping angry. Just a slow burn.
A simmer.

I'm trying not to let this simmering anger invade the moments we have. Sometimes I'm good at that. And sometimes I fail..
I don't think the anger will last forever.
I hope it will ease and be replaced by a calm acceptance.
Not yet though.

I've always attempted to shy away from the anger emotion.
For good reason.
Anger is a bitter pill.
But at the moment it's my bitter pill.
And I'm savoring it.

I'm angry that he is losing weight and exhaustion steals him away from us and he sleeps so much. I don't want to accept that.
I'm angry that we have conversations about funerals and life insurance. I don't want to accept that.
I'm angry that his liver is peppered with tumors and when we sat down with the ct scan we lost count.
I'm angry that he is in pain but tries to hide it.
I'm angry that his body is signaling to us that the fade has started. That we know. We don't want to talk about it...Admit that we can see it. I don't want to accept it.

But we can see it.
Cancer is a thief and I'm angry.