Grief
Triggers of Grief
Personal Perspective: One thing triggers have in common—there’s more grief work to do.
Posted August 26, 2025 Reviewed by Michelle Quirk
I’m sure you’ve come to know that bereaved parents are a tightly wound group that is easily triggered. There are the obvious ones, like the anniversary of your child’s death, their birthday, or any number of tragic milestones and holidays. We know that they’re coming each year, and we prepare ourselves for how we think we’re going to feel, which is very often worse than what actually happens. For the first few years, these occasions simply suck, and then, as time goes by, they begin to suck slightly less.
Those triggers stay with you, and you’ll continue to manage them the best that you can. Then there are the ones that come out of nowhere and feel like guided missiles aimed straight at your heart.
You’re suddenly crying harder than you’ve cried in months, and it feels almost like it did during the early days after your child’s death. You can’t believe that you’re feeling this intense sadness again, this terrible reminder (as if you need reminding!) that your child is gone. It’s the most unpleasant time travel imaginable.
Anything that evokes painful memories of your child can be a trigger. I don’t need to list them all here, since they can be almost anything, and they’re different for each of us, but triggers generally have one thing in common: They often indicate that there’s still grief work to be done.
My big trigger was soup dumplings, the dish Rob and I liked best. The first few times I tried to eat them after he died, I felt sick to my stomach. There was a foul aftertaste that matched the nauseating feeling I got whenever I thought about never seeing him again. I couldn’t eat them for months. Every time I tried, it brought me back to the day before he killed himself, a Proustian madeleine that tasted like death warmed over.
Then one day, on my therapist Katerina’s advice, I tried to Jedi mind trick myself and reframe my lunch memories with Rob. I went back to Din Tai Fung, the scene of the crime, grabbed a seat at the bar, and ordered what we usually ordered. Every time I reached for a pork soup dumpling and dipped it in the mix of soy sauce, vinegar, and ginger, I thought of Rob and me quietly sitting there together, happily stuffing our faces.
Whatever was going on in Rob’s life at the time—to be sure, there was always something going on—would vanish while we were eating at Din Tai Fung, which seemed to add a little bit of tasty magic to the meals we shared. I looked back on all the lunches that we had together, just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company, while associating the deliciousness and my love of this food with the deliciousness and love of my son. And, I’m happy to report, I’ve been gorging on pork xiao long bao ever since.
Your triggers are clearly different from mine and may not be as tasty. It could be a photo or song or something on TV. It could be a smell or a sound or any other sense memory that hits you out of the blue and makes you feel the acute pain you thought you were pretty much done with. The pain, however, is affirming that it’s not quite done with you.
And as brutal and upsetting as it feels, you may just want to sit with whatever emotions are stirred up and let them wash over you. Try to glean any new insights into why they’re making you feel the way you feel. Once you recognize what button is being pushed, you can learn how to cope with it and eventually resolve any loose grief ends. You can choose to embrace or recalibrate the experience, as I did—that’s up to you—but the important thing is that you face it. The pain of being triggered is just like any other grief pain—you can learn from it and also gather strength from it. It’s all part of putting in the work.
Not many things trigger me these days. When I’m running a grief group for bereaved parents, I’m able to compartmentalize my own feelings from the upsetting stories being told in the room, although I do feel a special kinship with fathers who have lost a son to suicide.
You would think the very word would possibly set me off, but it doesn’t. When I hear someone inadvertently say that they had a rough day and feel like “blowing their brains out” or “killing themselves,” I get what they’re saying, and I don’t immediately picture Rob doing what he did. There have even been days when I’ve said those crappy words myself.
The one thing that still triggers me, and I suspect always will, is hearing Rob’s voice. I have only one saved voicemail from a few years before he died. It’s just Rob saying, “Hey, happy birthday. Gimme a call back. Love you. Bye.”
It makes me weep whenever I play it, triggering poignant thoughts of our lifetime together and the love we shared. And if that’s also a sign of unfinished grief work, I’ll happily listen to Rob’s birthday message until the day I die.
If you or someone you love is contemplating suicide, seek help immediately. For help 24/7, dial 988 for the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, or reach out to the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741. To find a therapist near you, visit the Psychology Today Therapy Directory.
