There is a pocket in my heart that will always be the House of Anger.
I allow myself this.
It suits me better than self-pity.
It is almost poetic if it wasn’t so forlorn that it now stands for all the angers that I never experienced prior to her death.
This anger goes much deeper and is much wider than any anger I could ever have raised or imagined.
I don’t and won’t live in conjunction with this anger, but I feel the hea(r)t from its flame and I let it draw me close as some unexpected trigger sets off a chain reaction.
I am not ever going to attempt to put out this fire. It fuels me when my energy slips away.
It serves me well as a receptacle for my pain, and I need to know it is within my grasp forever and ever,
Amen.
jennie's red book 
I think I can understand that anger and that you don’t want to get rid of it as it is your pain of terrible grief that you want to hang on to forever which is understandable. xxxx
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