Musical Triggers

It's been a long time since I ran into a full-on trigger.  I've had slight triggers where I may have a few tears or burning eyes or a similarly slight reaction.  Mostly, I see Alli's angelversary and birthday coming from months away like a speeding freight train toward me. 

But, occasionally, I do get triggered.  This time, it was by one of Alli's two songs.  Soon after I lost her, my friend made a CD with one of my favorite songs on it, Josh Groban's "To Where You Are."  It quickly became intrinsically connected to her memory and to my pain.  I avoid hearing it at all costs because it hurts too much.  The same is true of Evanescence's "My Immortal."  Just before Christmas, Groban's song played on my sister's Pandora channel.  I'm sure she didn't expect it or have any idea of what would happen when it played.  I balled up in a hysterical fetal position on the floor and sobbed into our freshly laid floor.  I was immobilized and helpless against the emotional onslaught. 

I know I'm not alone in such triggers.  My friend, a young widow, feels something of the same thing every time she hears her late husband's beloved Beatles songs.  For her, it's a bittersweet feeling because, for a few minutes at least, she feels like he's back with her.  For me, the songs are just reminders of the intensity of fresh pain.  Most of the time, I'm buffered from the pain.  But there are moments when I'm helpless before its overwhelming might. 

These tears are not all bad.  They feel like healing tears, at least after the fact.  It's just hard to deal with the triggers when they come.  And when we lived in the same house as we were when we lost her, just after we lost her, the triggers were everywhere, from her blankets to her toys to my very body from which I had been wont to feed her.  Everything triggered that same onrush of agony.  I felt like I was breaking into a million pieces with nothing to hold me together, which was far worse than the usual, which was me wandering the world like a lost soul with a large, gaping, bloody hole where my heart used to be. 

Triggers, of whatever sort and no matter the nature of the loss, are just hard.  They can be good because they allow you to work through your pain.  But they bring fresh pain.  They're such a mixed bag.  I'm just thankful that I'm mostly living a world where I can find peace and healing through the Savior.  And I know I will hold her again.  On that day, the songs and other triggers will have no power over me.  I look forward to that day. 

Holiday Loss

The holidays are a particularly poignant time for those in mourning, even if the loss isn't recent or didn't occur over the holidays.  My husband and friend both saw the angelversaries of their mothers' deaths over the last week.  My husband lost his mother over two decades ago, and the holidays have never been the same.  His mother was Christmas to him.  It's always hard for him to summon any joy this time of year.  That friend has now lost her mother and father.  Her brother lives far away.  Her sister is far enough away that she can't always make it to celebrate holidays.  She's a lost soul, and holidays are often sort of meaningless to her without someone to celebrate with. 

For those whose loss is not over the holidays, it's still a tough time of year.  We constantly feel the pain of those who aren't here.  When I had just lost my baby, songs and imagery about newborns, pregnant women, and angels brought tears every time, and they're everywhere this time of year.  The dim pall feels worse when everyone else seems so joyous and expect us to feel likewise.

If you're one who feels more darkness than light this time of year, know that you're not alone.  Sometimes, with everyone singing chipper songs around us, it's easy to think we're the only one in pain.  Just know the reason for the season isn't Santa, presents, or any of the trappings.  It's a time to celebrate that Christ came and suffered our pain.  We are never alone because He knows our pain.  When he suffered in the garden, he suffered your pain, so he could carry it for you.  Pray.  Turn it over to Him.  Let Him share His peace with you.  Even if you can't summon a smile on cue, seek His peace this time of year.  He will help you through.  We also celebrate that He has overcome death.  Because He came, we can be with our loved ones again.  There is hope because of Christmas.  Even if you can't really celebrate, find peace in this. 

Journal Tree

I've mentioned our favorite tradition of watching out for ways to serve, writing acts of service on slips of paper, then putting them into a jar for Alli on Christmas morning.  We've started our jar and update it once a week.  I know we need to work harder on finding more people to help.

Another tradition we have is our journal tree.  Every year, we find ornaments that represent our family's year.  If we go to Yellowstone, California, or anywhere else, we get ornaments that we date if they don't already have dates on them and at least once a year sit together as we put them up to talk about what and whom they represent.  Each child also picks out an ornament per year, representing what they love at that time.  When they move out to go to college, they get to take those with them. 

We have ornaments to represent their Christmas prebirth and one to represent them on their first Christmas.

For our angel, we also have one to represent her growing wings the year she passed away.  We have an ornament as well to represent the angels we lost during pregnancy.  Every year, those ornaments feel particularly poignant because they, plus the angel at the top of the tree, are the stand-ins for those who can only be there in spirit.  I love our journal tree because it represents our life together, our loss and pain, and the love we have as a family.  I think we grow together each year as we reflect on the years we had together.  I recommend this tradition for anyone looking for a way to remember times together and those you have lost.