It was a picture-perfect drive.

75 degrees with blue sky, white puffy clouds, and bright sunshine. We were headed back to Rochester after an impromptu day trip to the picturesque La Crosse, Wisconsin.

The leaves of the Minnesota trees were starting to give glimpses of their coming autumn brilliance. You could smell fall in the air. You could taste the pumpkin spice.

Nature’s perfect beauty was on display right outside the car window.

Even more, Jason’s proton radiation treatment started weeks earlier than expected. The cancer cells we hated were dying. And we had lazy days together, just the two of us, for the first time since… well, forever.

Goodness. It’s all good.

Despite all of that perfection, the tears started to come and they wouldn’t let up. Salty, sloppy drips all the way down my neck.

It’s not surprising, I suppose. There have been a lot of tears since the cancer diagnosis. Mostly it has been the tears of sadness, but on this day I actually didn’t feel sad.

In the past weeks, there have also been tears of jealousy and self-pity, but it wasn’t those kinds of thoughts either.

My mind tried to wrap itself around the source of these tears – It was anger. Oddly though, I wasn’t angry at anything. Maybe it would be expected to be angry at God, angry at the world, angry at our situation, angry at myself even, but I wasn’t.

I didn’t feel angry at, I just felt anger. Emotion welled up and bubbled over. And, I wanted it to stop.

It’s just a stage of grief. It’s normal. It’ll pass. It’s okay.

The rational part of me understood it, but the emotional part of me didn’t.

Being the control freak that I often am, being out of control of my own emotions, even just for a moment, was awful. Not only was I an alien in a new city – away from home and away from familiar, now I was an alien in my own mind.

Was it because I missed the kids? Was it because of cancer? Was it because of a change in my routine? Ultimately, in the moment, it didn’t matter.

I was disoriented. Angry. Alone. Ug.

Then, I fell asleep. (Don’t worry, Jason was driving.)

A cat nap later – I awoke. Refreshed.

Deep breath. I’m still here. I’m still me.

The landscape was still there, and a quick glance in the mirror revealed my mascara hadn’t even smudged.

The anger passed. Peace was back.

Oh, grief. Oh, life.

Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28