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.
