Triggers Bring Welcome Memories, Tears and Love

I don’t cry much anymore.  During the year following Kitty’s death, tears came easily and often.  Four and a half years later, it takes something both extremely sad and either personal or relatable to get my emotions anywhere near the all-time, tear-shedding experienced in 2013.

For that reason alone, I took myself by surprise last week when a trigger turned me into a human sprinkler.

​​Mandy called from work last Thursday.  Her co-worker, an art teacher, finished his illustrations for her children’s book.  She said, “I wish you could see them”.  Translated, that means, ‘I want you to get ready, fix your hair, put on makeup, get dressed, drive across town and come look at the drawings that I am so excited to have in my office … NOW’. 

How could I say ‘no’?  The book has been written for almost three years.  The next step was the illustration, but not many artists were willing to work on a story about the death of a child.  So, yes, this was a very exciting milestone.  The book can now move forward.

As I stood next to the round, child-sized table in Mandy’s office, she flipped the large white pages, drawn with special pencils.  Kitty, Belle, Mommy and Daddy are kittens and cats … how appropriate.  The corresponding text is written to the left of each drawing. 

I know the story.  I realize that Kitty is Belle’s little sister.  I know that Belle misses doing everyday things with Kitty.  I am very aware of the time it took and the careful explanations given to Belle to help her cope with the loss of her baby sister.  Now, here it was in front of me - Kitty’s life and death simplified, literally in black and white.  32 pages, ready to colorize, design, proof and ship off to the printer … almost ready for other bereaved families to help them handle their losses.

What a powerful trigger. 

As we read through and looked at the artwork, tears automatically flowed down my face and wouldn’t stop.  Mandy said that she cried ‘a little bit’ when she first saw it, so I thought … maybe ... I would tear up, but that would be the extent of my reaction.  Nope.  It didn’t take long before I had to ask Mandy where she kept her tissue!  I sensed that it was comforting for her to see me react emotionally, to know that I still grieve, too, and to know that her book would also touch others and help them deal with their grief.

Triggers are always unexpected, but not to be feared.  They are natural and normal, can happen anytime and anywhere.   I’m sure you’ve experienced them, especially early in the grief journey.  Perhaps you’ve strolled store aisles and come across a toy, book or game you and your grandchild enjoyed together.  Greeting card shopping can set off emotions when you are choosing a birthday card for your son or daughter and, on the rack next to them, are the cards you will never buy for your grandchild.  Favorite foods or places, a piece of clothing, certain scents or sounds, activities … absolutely anything and everything can be a trigger.

For my younger daughter, it is the song, “You are Mine” by David Haas that brings tears every time we sing it in church.  This beautiful piece was sung at Kitty’s funeral and again, one month later, at my mother’s funeral Mass.  Although the song’s message abounds with words of comfort and hope, it is an emotional trigger that never fails.

I am grateful for these occasionally anticipated, but typically unexpected bursts of emotion.  They bring the love I have for Kitty back to the surface, reminding me of the days we spent together as well as the longing for those we will never share.  Triggers keep Kitty present in my everyday life.  I’ve also discovered that the farther I move along my grief path, welcome memories and even some happiness can accompany a trigger, despite the tears.

I am excited with the anticipation of Mandy’s book to be delivered ‘hot off the press’.  I wonder how I will react at every phase of the publishing process, especially when a finished copy is placed in my hands and I can turn the pages by myself. 

I’m sure I will cry again, but this time, I will be prepared.