Well, THAT Wasn’t On My Calendar!
I woke early. It’s strange to me how… as I get older, I get up earlier and earlier. When I was young, waking up early meant, “anytime before 10am!” Now, I’m wide awake at 5:00 or 6:00am! Oh, the joys of growing up!
On this 78th day of living at home with the coronavirus pandemic, I went through my typical morning routine. I got up, brushed my teeth, pulled my hair back into the now traditional ponytail, and went downstairs to make some coffee. Once the coffee was brewed, I returned to my bedroom with a full cup and began my daily writing while listening to the robins calling out to one other outside my bedroom window. I had lots of plans for this Saturday! I would write my 2,000 words for the day, go into my “winter living room” and sew some face masks for the family, take Kady fishing, cut the grass, and plant the garden. A full day of things that would ultimately, hopefully bring me joy.
And then, like always, it happened. A trigger. One little realization and my mind was torn off of the track that I had planned for it and I found myself thrust back into that dark hole that has become almost a second home for me. Grief.
I have learned a lot of ways to protect myself from this vicious foe. I don’t watch the news. Since John died, I have rarely watched the news on television, and I’m only marginally aware of the big stories that are going on. While it is impossible to completely protect myself from grief triggers, I have learned about major triggers that I can somewhat control. So, I’ve gone from someone who watched or listened to news two or three times a day to someone who senses important events through posts on social media and then decides whether or not I should learn more about it.
Such was the case this morning. I had just finished my last cup of coffee, and luckily finished writing my 2,000 words of the day at the same time. I began to close up my sparkling new laptop to get dressed. (Oh, I didn’t mention that I tend to do my morning writing in my PJs? TMI? Sorry!) Then I saw it, again. I had noticed this story a few days ago, but didn’t make much of it.
A rocket launch at NASA. No big deal, right? They happen all of the time. Not a trigger! John loved NASA, and space, and flying. He and our friend, Felix, used to go to the EAA (Experimental Aviation Association) show in Oshkosh, Wisconsin every year. When John and I took our big girls to Florida for the mandatory American family trip to DisneyWorld, we planned to spend a day at NASA’s visitor center at Cape Canaveral. We even timed our trip to be able to see an evening rocket launch from the visitor center. John was moved by the launch. He wanted more. He wanted to see a space shuttle launch where they said that you could feel the power of the launch in your chest even miles away.
A few years later, on July 26, 2005, we woke at a hotel in Daytona Beach, Florida. Twenty-four hours earlier we had left our home in Wisconsin, taking turns to drive and get to the public viewing site that I had researched about for weeks. We pulled into the parking lot, watched the horizon, and waited. The sun rose and instantly started baking the four of us as we stood, waiting. Nearby, another viewer had a radio amplified from his van so that everyone could hear the announcements and know if the launch would be scrubbed yet again. This was the third or fourth attempt, and we had decided that if it were scrubbed, we would wait only one more day before heading home. We had a wedding to attend.
Finally, we could feel the excitement growing in the crowd. We had passed “the point of no return” and the launch was going to happen! We saw it before we heard it. Silently at first, the sight of the space shuttle appeared above the trees, just like we had seen on television for years and years. And then, a few seconds later, this wave hit our bodies, pushing against us as we heard the roar of the engines and felt the vibration. I looked over at John, wearing his EAA hat. He had tears in his eyes while he smiled that huge memorable smile of his.
“Oh, my God, Kristyn! This is AMAZING!” he said as he grabbed my hand.
We stood along with everyone else, watching as the engines separated and the shuttle disappeared into space just minutes after taking off. Then, we got back into the car. We drove to the ocean and went swimming for a few hours before climbing back into the car for the 24 hour return trip home.
So, on this Saturday morning years later, when I saw that NASA was sending off a rocket, I didn’t make much of it. Until I realized that this wasn’t just ANY rocket. This was the first manned rocket in over nine years! And just like the wave of vibrations from the shuttle launch, I felt the wave of grief vibrate through my body. Grief pushed against my body and I was frozen. Frozen in memories. Frozen with the image of John’s smile, his joy. I had to watch this launch!
I went down into my “winter living room” and turned on the fireplace. This morning in May was unseasonably cold and the house was frigid now that I had turned off the furnace. I found the NASA station on my television, thinking about how John would have been talking about this for weeks, for months, and I had known nothing about it, protecting myself from grief triggers that hit me anyway.
I raced back upstairs and dug through the closet to find John’s EAA hat. It was buried underneath dozens of baseball caps, each with a coordinating pin. How many pins had this man purchased? I knew he always had at least one on his hat, but seriously? I giggled as I pulled out hat after hat after hat with pin after pin after pin, the EAA hat of course being at the bottom of the pile. The EAA hat was heavier than all of the rest. A bucket-styled hat, it was completely covered in pins. Sixteen of them! John and Felix, who has also been taken from this world by cancer, would each put on their hats and head off to the show, sharing the new pins that each had purchased. I sat and held the filthy hat in my hands. John hated washing hats, saying that, “it took away the mojo!” This always disgusted me, but now? I will never wash his hats!
There I sat, the familiar sound of NASA television, the familiar dirty EAA hat, the familiar pins telling their stories of our trips to North Carolina, DisneyWorld, and of course the Kennedy Space Center.
And I cried. No, I sobbed, No, I actually wailed. I haven’t wailed for a long time, but there it was and I just let it happen. The anger of loss filled me. He should be here. He should be pacing and jabbering and driving me insane with his constant pessimism. Except that he wasn’t, and it was yet another reminder that he never would be.
I forced the whiny teenagers to come and watch this important moment in history. Waiting until the absolute last moment, they unwillingly trudged down the stairs and plopped on the couch. “I don’t know why you’re making us watch this. It’s not like WE care about it. SO WHAT that daddy cared.” And then, the whininess was quickly replaced with, “Oh, WOW!” as the Dragon crew was launched into space. “That’s amazing!” they smiled at me with huge eyes.
Yes, it was.
Triggers are all around us. If you suffer from PTSD, you may be able to predict some of your triggers and learn how to avoid them. Grief triggers can be sneakier. Even when you try to avoid them, it’s almost impossible to avoid certain dates, events, sounds, and even smells that take you back to the realization of exactly what has been lost. It’s OK to be blasted by a wave of grief, even years after the loss. It happens to me, and I know it will happen again.
I just let myself feel it, I reach out to someone who I feel safe just losing it with. That’s typically one of my older daughters. And after the wave has passed, and just like that day that we watched the shuttle launch in person, my body has stopped vibrating, I get back to the day at hand. As best as I can.
Here are some resources that may help you in dealing with your triggers, whether they be from PTSD, grief, or like me, both!
7 Tactics For Healthy Grieving
How to Identify and Cope With Your PTSD Triggers
Our ClassCee Life provides general educational information from someone who has experienced great loss. You should not substitute information on the Our ClassCee Life website for professional advice.
If you, or someone you care about is dealing with grief, here are some tips for coping with grief from people who are dealing with it themselves!
