It hurts. I felt exactly the same way after we lost Andrew, our second loss in 8 months, and with no explanation.
Every early afternoon, I would walk over to her grave, lay down across it, and listen to Marillion’s Afraid of Sunlight. Sometime in the hour or so visit, I would just raise my fist to the sky and scream at God. “You gave me one job, God, to be a father to this little girl, and you took it all away.” In my fury, I called Him the greatest murderer in history, a bastard, an abortionist, and other horrible things. I never doubted His existence, but I very much questioned His love for us.
Read the whole article here.
It does get better. I can’t logically convince anyone of that, but it does. God is merciful to have taken all of my rage and flailing about and love me anyway. I know all of this now, but reading the essay I look back and viscerally remember the pain. Lord have mercy.