When you know it's irrational.
That is grief. I know when I'm being irrational in my thoughts. Yet I still ask, I still get mad. I want to scream into the darkness. I want to scream to the heavens. I want to scream to anyone who is listening. "What did you leave us?" "Why didn't you fight harder?" So very irriational. It wasn't a choice for him to pass away. It's nothing that could be "fought". But damn, I still want the questions answered. That is the irrationality of grief.