Know Thyself

Drew, one of the principle tenants of life I've always agreed with is the paramount importance of knowing oneself. This theme has been oft repeated in literature and by wise men throughout various stages of civilization. Lao Tzu, the ancient Chinese philosopher, founder of Taoism and author of the Tao Te Ching is attributed to have said, "He who knows others is learned, he who knows himself is wise." I've always marveled at the wisdom of those words. Accordingly, it comes as no surprise that throughout my life I've always taken the time to seek out and get to know myself. I'm sure that sounds strange, but as far back as I can remember I've examined my actions, desires and beliefs and questioned them. Growing up I earnestly sought for answers to reveal why I am who I am. What makes me tick and why do I have the feelings, thoughts and motivations that I do? Accordingly, how do each of these contribute to my personality and actions?

Over the course of doing this for the past thirty years, I felt as though I had come to a point where I truly knew myself. I thought I understood who I was. I believed that I had a firm grasp on my characteristics, strengths and weaknesses. In fact, I knew myself so well that I was extremely comfortable being by myself. I've never really minded being alone, something I feel is mainly attributed to my knowledge of myself. I had viewed myself as I am in reality and had accepted myself.

But since your passing I've had feelings that I had not felt previously. I've experienced emotions that have been foreign to me until now. For example, though I have felt grief and sadness before, that which I feel now is much more poignant and stinging that anything I have previously experienced. Likewise, the longing to have you back with us is more pronounced and heavy than anything I've ever felt before. However, the area in which I have seen the most variation from who I thought I was, has involved the feeling of anger.

Throughout my life I've never struggled with anger before. Though my childhood and transition to adulthood wasn't perfect (I had all the normal setbacks and disappointments that most people experience) I have almost always been at peace with life and my situation therein. When people wronged me or used me, I rarely (if ever) became angry at them. And while it's true that getting married and bringing your sister, Alexis, into our family sometimes led to frustration on my part, I truly felt as though these feelings were normal. Whenever I felt any amount of anger I was always able to control it easily. I would never lash out at your mother or sister, and though I sometimes raised my voice it was never motivated by true anger.

Since your passing, however, the level of anger I have felt has been monumental...far in excess of anything I had thought possible. For the first time in my life I can honestly say that I feel anger, pure and unrelenting.

I am angry that my life has been so different than those I knew growing up. I have always wanted the boring, structured life that all my childhood friends had experienced: go to school, serve a mission somewhere in the US, come home and go to college somewhere local, find and marry someone, buy a house, settle down and have children. Instead I was sent to Hong Kong, came home and was prompted to move to New York, due to life's circumstances was never able to formally attend college (had to complete all of my degrees online), was prompted to NOT buy a house or set down roots here in Syracuse, and have now lost my son due to an extremely rare (and possibly never before seen) metabolic disorder. This is not what I had envisioned or wanted. It's not that I'm disappointed with the current state of me life, just angry that things have gone so far off the course that I sought out.

I am angry that you were taken from me especially considering the level of anticipation and excitement I had invested in the assumption that you would be perfectly healthy. As I said in your eulogy, I had begun making plans for us. I was seriously excited about welcoming you into my life. Although I love your sister just as much as I do you, your birth was different. You were my son, the heir to my legacy. The one who would carry my name and memory forward once I died. I had anticipated a closeness with you that would exceed what I could experience with your sister. I had planned (and already begun making preparations) to have the type of relationship with you that I never had with my father. While my father did a good job raising me (he showed me right from wrong and provided the necessities of life for me) he rarely spent time with me, talked with me, or truly sought to know who I was or how I was doing in my life. I had promised myself (and you) that our relationship would be different...we were to be friends who enjoyed each others company and did everything together. I am angry that was taken from me (or is at least postponed until some unknown future date).

The anger that I feel is so much deeper and all-encompassing than anything I have felt before that it has caused me to question the level of my knowledge of myself. I didn't think I was capable of experiencing anger in such an acute manner. Indeed, I feel as though I'm standing on the edge of a very large and dark precipice. To complicate matters, I'm unsure of whether I should give place for this anger within myself or resist it and drive it from my heart. The world tells me that I must allow myself to feel angry because the anger I feel is normal and must be dealt with. It must be processed as part of the natural grieving process. Many of the people I've spoken to have supported this view, telling me that "it's ok to be angry" or that I can call them if I "just need to yell or scream." Yet the quieter side of me feels that this anger (although a normal part of the grieving process) must be pushed away and avoided. After all, isn't that what the scriptures teach us about anger? Is there any form of anger that is conducive to the the Spirit?

So this battle rages within me, the anger boiling up and me not knowing whether to entertain it or suppress it. Another complicating factor is that the anger I feel is not directed at any specific person or thing. I'm not angry at God, I trust His judgement and put my faith in Him. I'm not angry at your mother. She's meant more to me than anyone and I love her more deeply than anyone else. Although my feelings of anger have caused me to partially emotionally withdraw from her temporarily, I love her more than ever and treasure her companionship. I'm not angry at anyone around me, they did nothing to cause your loss. Perhaps it feels more like I'm just angry at the universe. But how is such anger to be expressed? To what is it to be directed?

I don't have the answers but earnestly seek to understand this new portion of myself that has emerged. In the meantime I deal with it by working and exercising a lot...perhaps too much. Investing so much in physical activity leaves me little time to entertain the anger I feel. Yet, for now, it seems the only viable option while I wrestle with myself internally.

Love,
Your Father