About triggers, content, and warnings

This is the third of my posts prompted by a mix of the Agents of SHIELD finale and my social media reading. Last Friday, I wrote about Death and Grief, and on Tuesday I wrote about Science Fiction / Fantasy and Parenting.

This is, in part, an Agents of Shield reaction post to the Season 2 finale, "S.O.S. part 2." If you desire to be completely spoiler-free, you might wish to watch that first. That said, I don't intend to discuss Agents of SHIELD itself, it's more my own thoughts, influenced by the show, that build on my recent blogposts and other articles I've read and topics I want to write about.

In Friday's post on Grief, I mentioned how a renewed grief can be triggered years after the fact. I used the term "triggered" deliberately. By triggering, I mean a rush of vivid emotional memories that can overwhelm a person, or affect their mental equilibrium.

Death and Grief

This is, in part, an Agents of Shield reaction post to the Season 2 finale, "S.O.S. part 2." If you desire to be completely spoiler-free, you might wish to watch that first. That said, I don't intend to discuss Agents of Shield itself, it's more my own thoughts, influenced by the show, that build on my recent blogposts and other articles I've read and topics I want to write about.

It starts with a story that I read from Anthony de Mello, that comes from the Rabbinical tradition. There once was a woman who lost a family member. Perhaps her husband, perhaps her child, she lost someone she loved, and she wanted them back. She went to the Rabbi and asked him how she could bring her loved one back. The Rabbi told her she could weave a shroud for them, but she must obtain the thread from houses that had not known death. And so she knocked on every door in the village, but every house had known death.

"Tell me, and I’ll forget. Show me, and I may remember. But involve me, and I’ll understand." - Dr. Herb True, paraphrasing Xunzi

I've written a lot about grief in the past two years, particularly on Glee forums since the untimely passing of Cory Monteith. The popular 7 phases of grief (shock, anger, denial, bargaining, acceptance) do happen, but not in any particular order nor on a given timeframe. Every person grieves in their own way, and grief has it's own time.

One can reach acceptance of the death of a lost loved one, then later find that wound re-opened, a fresh wave or new layer of grief, years after the fact. Sometimes the renewed grief may be triggered by a date: their birthday, their death day, an important anniversary. Sometimes renewed grief is triggered by a scent, a sound, an experience. And sometimes renewed grief may be triggered by words on a page.

Rest in peace

Sorry that Monday's post didn't go up until Tuesday.  That was my second scheduling FAIL, I'll try not to let it happen again.

Sometimes it feels like everybody's dying.  One of the biggest factors in my move to Alabama was that my mother and grandmother were dying. I'm not quite ready to relate that story here, just yet. I'd like to write chronologically where I can.

Look, I'm still around

As promised, here's some of the songs that help me to feel better.

Interlude: Resources for talking with small children about death

I spent the last weekend traveling to visit family, and attend an aunt's funeral.

Every family experiences a different pace of life and death. My side of the family was very fortunate, from what I can tell. Mamaw passed away in 1982, the first person that I truly mourned. Everyone else that I knew reasonably well, lived through the 1980's and 1990's. A few great-uncles passed on, but I only remember one or two visits with them.

Such a spate of "good luck" can't last forever. My son has attended three relatives' funerals already in his short life. He was not quite 2 when my grandmother passed away, and I don't think he knew her all that well. She tended to sleep a lot when we visited. A few months later my mom passed away. I think he's beginning to understand that loss. Today I'm going to mention some of the resources I've used to talk with my son about loss.