The Triggers

The biggest trigger for me—the one that can really set me off and throw me into this emotional state of devastation and sorrow—is watching certain movies or shows.

It’s like I relive the loss all over again.

I’m watching Virgin River on Netflix, and there’s a character, Mel, who lost her husband, Mark. As she starts reliving her loss through dreams and memories, I can feel it happening to me.

My eyes start welling up.

I can feel it internally.

My heart starts breaking all over again.

And just like that… I’m reliving losing Alvin.

Season 1, Episode 8—she’s approaching the one-year mark of losing her husband, and she says something about wondering when she’ll finally get past it.

And I’m sitting there talking to the TV like it’s real life.

I’m like… Girl, you’re only one year in.

How about two years?

And if I’m being honest, there is no “getting past it.”

That phrase alone bothers me.

Getting past it?

No.

I don’t think love works that way.

I start doing what I always do—analyzing everything, assessing everything, getting all deep and vocal with my thoughts like I’m part of the script.

But in the middle of all that, I had to pause.

Because yet again, I found myself sitting in that same realization that still shocks me to this day.

Unbelievable.

That’s the word I keep coming back to.

Unbelievable.

Unbelievable about my life.

Unbelievable about my husband.

Unbelievable that all of that happened.

Unbelievable that he’s no longer here.

It still doesn’t feel real sometimes.

Even after two years.

Then there’s this scene where Mel removes her wedding ring.

Her sister is talking to her, basically telling her it’s time to face the loss and acknowledge what happened.

That hit me too.

Because I still wear my wedding ring.

Sometimes I don’t.

Sometimes I do.

And when I do, I wear it proudly.

As I watched that scene, I looked down at my hand.

At this beautiful ring.

At what it represents.

And something shifted.

The trigger that had brought me pain… suddenly brought me joy.

I started thinking about our life together.

And wow… what a life we built.

I thought about our accomplishments.

Our trips.

Our family moments.

The cookouts.

The laughter.

Even the simple things.

Food shopping.

Funny enough, we went food shopping together all the time.

Little errands.

Little outings.

Ordinary moments that didn’t feel extraordinary at the time.

But now?

Those moments feel priceless.

Even recently, my friend Tish invited me to be her plus-one to her company party because they’ll have karaoke.

I gladly accepted.

And just like that—another trigger.

I started thinking about Alvin’s company Christmas parties.

They had karaoke too.

I remembered the year I actually got up and did karaoke.

I smiled.

That memory made me smile.

And that’s when something clicked.

Triggers are interesting.

Sometimes they bring tears.

Sometimes they wreck you.

Sometimes they stop you right in your tracks.

But sometimes…

they give you something beautiful.

They allow you to reflect.

To honor.

To remember.

To cherish.

To revisit the journey—not just the loss.

Our journey.

And I’m realizing something.

Maybe triggers aren’t always the enemy.

Maybe sometimes they’re reminders.

Reminders that love was real.

Reminders that life was shared.

Reminders that something beautiful happened here.

Yes, sometimes the triggers bring me to tears.

But I’m grateful when they also bring perspective.

Because those memories…

those beautiful memories…

give me strength.

They remind me of what I had.

And what I had was real love.

Deep love.

Beautiful love.

And I want to allow that love to ignite something in me.

I want it to fuel me.

I want it to help me keep moving forward.

I want to show up in my purest form.

Fully me.

Fully present.

Fully appreciative of this life.

And if God allows me, I want to use that to encourage others walking this road too.

To sit with them.

To understand them.

To remind them they’re not crazy for feeling what they feel.

And if I can be anything to someone grieving…

I just want to be that small whisper of encouragement that gently says—

Keep going.

Because despite it all…

you can.

You absolutely can.

And in time…

you absolutely will.