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Little triggers


Roseapple

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I've never heard that analogy before but it so fits.  Those waves crashing are so hard, they can come out of the blue at any moment, no matter where we are at.  When you connect with your person and then are forced to continue life without them it can feel like the worst torture in the world!  And we're supposed to get used to this?!  Somehow we do, I don't know how, it's beyond my brain to absorb that and yet here I am, doing just that, all these years later.  I never would have believed I'd have survived this long without him beside me.

At first I counted by weeks, then months, then years.  I wonder if it will ever blur together, so far it has not.  Everything distinct and fully remembered...

You will be in our thoughts as your birthday time comes...I'm glad you have plans and won't be alone.

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I'm wondering how many others are dealing with the little triggers that stop you in your tracks as you were just casually doing something. It happened to me twice over the past weekend. 

One of them occurred while I was innocently putting some rotted and leftover pieces of wood into the back of my van to take to my brother's for him to burn out back of his place. I opened up the van's back gate and there they were....the two folding camp chairs that Tom and I bought a few years ago for our weekly coffee get-togethers in the park that we had with a group of others. His is the black one and mine's blue. I knew they were in the van and I've been able to avoid them because I haven't needed to go back there lately but they caught me by surprise this time. The pain that those two damn chairs caused yesterday was devastating. I figure I could move them and get them out of sight but I'm going to be defiant and keep them where they are as a loving reminder of what was...despite any tears they bring my way.  

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I still try not to enter the shop after all these years, and it's hard for me to sit on the porch swing as we used to, or go for drives as we did together or the walks we used to take.  

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I have those triggers. The main one is when something happens (good bad and in between) that I just want to share with him. He was my constant. My go to. If we talked once a day we talked 15. He would call me over the smallest thing. I'd call him. We could talk about anything and we would talk about everything. When he got home we'd still talk about our days. Even if we'd already told each other about it we'd still talk about it. It's the lil things that we would share. No rhyme or reason. Just share it with each other. I have wanted to pick up the phone a million times to call him and say guess what. But he's not here and the only way I can talk to him is to talk to an empty room. He will never speak back and honestly I've forgotten his voice. My therapist says it's grief fog. That it will come back to me. I hope it does. I miss how we discussed everything 😪 

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1 hour ago, Goforth860 said:

I've forgotten his voice. My therapist says it's grief fog. That it will come back to me.

I believe this too.  I've lost the recordings of his voice, but even after 17 years, I can still hear it, I love his voice.  

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Dragonfly999

I am fortunate to have hours of his voice recorded in his podcasts, but I’ve actually not been able to bring myself to listen to one yet because it’s too painful.

Everything under the sun triggers me. Before we met I bought these glasses that say “good morning” on them in all different languages. My fantasy was to find someone to love who would travel the world and learn those languages with me, and also who would enjoy having breakfast with me at home while using those glasses for juice/tea. My husband was the master at making breakfast and we went on all our adventures together, he knew the story behind why I bought the glasses and thought it was sweet. Right before we left on our trip where he passed away, he broke one of those glasses and felt so bad, but I told him it didn’t matter because I had what they symbolized. Yesterday I saw the one lone glass in the cupboard and it wrecked me, especially the timing/symbolism of one breaking before he died.

I have to look away out in public if I see a couple holding hands or kiss, that’s a major trigger knowing I’ll never have that again.

I walked past his favorite store and there was a shirt in the window he would have loved, my first inclination was that I had to buy it for him and it broke my heart that I can’t.

Doing the laundry when it’s only my clothes in there to put away.

Seeing a new album coming out from a band we both like and knowing he’ll never get to listen to it, so I won’t buy it either because it doesn’t feel fair.

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There are a lot of that "triggers" ...some are like depth bombs impossible to defuse...exploding continuosly along the years reopining old wounds...

After 4 years i'm still unable to look outside the window as i did while waiting for his return.

No return...never!

I should break that window or wall it up completely !

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Part of my work day consists of customer reorders which means I have to journey into my online business folders in search of previous orders...so essentially, it's a continual trigger for a journey into the past. I'm looking at orders that date back to the times when my partner Tom was fully alive and well (and not that long ago). I wonder how many others here get caught in a downward spiral seeing a date when their loved one was around. My thoughts go back to what might have been happening at that time or what we might have been talking about or planning.

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When I thought I was going to have to sell the house, I packed up boxes of things I didn't need right now, but wanted to take with me (or put in storage).  Then I found out that rent isn't much less than my house payment, and though it's a tight budget, I can live on it.  So yesterday, I decided to reorganize one of the closets.  I opened up one of the boxes I had packed, and found a small cutting board with a knife that had a cover for the blade, still in the package from the store.  I had purchased it for our anniversary trip that we took every year.  It was actually for 2021, but that's about the time he was diagnosed with cancer, and wasn't able to eat anything, so we didn't go.  Why a cutting board?  Well, we loved to eat and drink.  So we would stock up on snacks at the local grocery store, after checking into the hotel.  I love different kinds of cheeses, and he loved salami, pepperoni, and such. 

Anyway, I sat down and had a good cry after I found it.  Then I said, "Well, I've probably stayed in my last hotel room, since that's not in the budget anymore!"  So I went to the kitchen, opened it up (cut my hand on the packaging), and put it in the knife drawer.  I'll probably cry every time I use it, but it wasn't doing anyone any good in that box!

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16 hours ago, DWS said:

I wonder how many others here get caught in a downward spiral seeing a date when their loved one was around.

It doesn't happen as often now but it hits me..."That was when George was alive" or "before I knew..."  When my life was intact.  Everything looked so differently then.

 

13 hours ago, cmp34 said:

Why a cutting board?

It's funny the things that hit us, but why not?!  My heart goes out to you as I read this...

 

13 hours ago, cmp34 said:

I'll probably cry every time I use it, but it wasn't doing anyone any good in that box!

 

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On 7/11/2022 at 2:29 PM, DWS said:

I wonder how many others here get caught in a downward spiral seeing a date when their loved one was around.

 All the time. The killer for me is finding store receipts in a plastic bag. I always have to check the date and try to remember when we were at that store. I keep longing to be back in those days, when we were together and happy.

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1 hour ago, Sparky1 said:

The killer for me is finding store receipts in a plastic bag. I always have to check the date and try to remember when we were at that store. I keep longing to be back in those days, when we were together and happy.

Yes, that's happened to me as well. Last week, I had to go through a stack of receipts in the hopes of finding one for a product I purchased last year. I hesitated at first knowing how difficult it was going to be. Those who haven't been through this wouldn't understand how devastating a small task like that can be for us. 

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April Ballou

Yeah it's the little things.  Sometimes it's just seeing his pictures .  

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This morning I decided to try to get out of the rut I'm in, and put on something other than a plain t-shirt and shorts. I ventured to the other side of the closet, and grabbed a black top that I consider one of my "nice" things.  When I put it on, I realized that it was what I wore to Paul's first chemo appointment.  I was trying to cheer myself up by wearing something nice, but it just pulled me back down. 

Most days, unless I go to the grocery store, I don't see anyone.  On Tuesdays and Sundays my son and his family come over, and every few weeks my sister and her dog stop by on their way home from the vet or groomer.  But for the most part, it's just me here...hour after hour, day after day.  So I really don't know why I thought that it would matter at all what I'm wearing.  It didn't cheer me up. 

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The apt we were supposed to move into before he passed and then the 4 mths after I am finally in. I moved in thurs after last. So it's been a week and 2 days. I see the things he did to get this place ready for US. I see the line that he straight lined for me that I painted to separate the living/ dining rooms from the kitchen. He made sure that it was a straight line for me to paint. He taped it up. I remember what he said when he pulled the tape off. I got it a lil off on the bottom.  I sure can't tape. He was a perfectionist. If it was going to be done by him it was going to be done right. Do it right the first time and you don't have to go back was what he'd say. I told him that the lil it was off was a millimeter and if someone was that low and close to the wall/floor inspecting they needed to get a life.  He laughed it off but I know it bugged him to no avail. I thought of that line in the other apt. It made me smile. Just the thought of him doing the measurements and making sure it was perfect made me smile at the thought of his work and dedication to making this a home. Now I'm in here and it's so empty. It's just me and my girls.  I walked in the other night and it slapped me in the face of how alone I am.  No one. Just me. The line is still there but he's not here. I'm slowly unpacking.  Most of the stuff is in the "spare room". That's a huge trigger. I can't even say John's room anymore.  I'm saying the spare room. I said before I moved in here I was still going to call it John's room but I have been told by several ppl and I do realize that I shouldn't.  Saying that is a part of moving forward.  There's no moving on or getting over it but we have to move forward in life. They would want it. They would want us to continue living. Even though it's the hardest thing we've EVER had to do. Go through life without them here with us. In a way this apt is a trigger in itself but I know he wanted this apt for me and me to be in it.  It's a downstairs handicap apt. He would want me to be here. Safe. Not having to worry about the stairs hich I've fallen down and broken my foot on before. Not having to depend on someone else to carry my groceries up. Or me to have to do it and be in constant anxiety of falling again.  It's the lil things but they seem so huge. Look at those clothes as time you were able to spend with him. Not the particular timing because that will drive you crazy. I think of the argument we were in the night John died. I think of the mean things I said to him and how I didn't check on him when I know I should've but I was upset and stubborn and bull headed and all the other descriptive words I want to use. I think about the good. Yes we had bad. Everyone  has and does but when it was bad it was bad and when it was good it was great. If I was to think of the bad those would be triggers too. I can't say it enough hold onto the good. The good will help you through. The bad will just drag you down like you said. 

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16 hours ago, cmp34 said:

I was trying to cheer myself up by wearing something nice, but it just pulled me back down. 

(((hugs)))

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On my way to deliver a customer's order today, I had to drive through the charming old neighbourhood that I've tried to avoid all of these past months. I thought perhaps it might be easier now but nope. That part of the city is filled with all of the memories of our many walks together. There wasn't a side street where we hadn't strolled and marveled at quaint, older bungalows and two-storey brick homes. I loved it because I was able to pick up gardening ideas which you can really only see standing on the sidewalk rather than inside a vehicle driving by. All of that scenery is still there...just one key element missing. So that neighbourhood is still a big trigger. It's my favourite part of the city that I have to keep avoiding for now. 

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One day...

It hasn't been a year yet.  I hope with you that in time you can go there again.  It was the longest time before I could go to the hospital where George died, I did a year afterwards when my friend's husband was in there, I wanted to show support for him but could not stop the tears flowing...

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Oof....I had a major unexpected trigger happen to me today.  One of my customers put a reorder in for some printed forms. It's a small husband and wife business so I only hear from them every other year. I looked up their last order which was February 1, 2022...three weeks before my loss. Then I had to find the printed copy of my supplier's invoice for that order. On it was written when I paid it...the day of Tom's passing. I would have done that before I heard the tragic news. That day was frantic and horrible as I tried to find out why he wasn't returning my texts or phone calls. Seeing my handwritten note on that invoice took me right back to that awful time. It knocked me back into the reality that he was alive and healthy the day before and since then, I've had to learn to cope and be at peace with his absence and the memories. 

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