Grief Anniversaries and Triggers: Learning to Ride the Waves

Grief anniversaries and emotional triggers are topics that still challenge me deeply. I’ll be honest—this isn’t something I’ve mastered. Some days I feel like I’m managing okay, and other days, the waves of emotion knock me flat. But I’ve come to understand that healing isn’t about “getting over it.” It’s about learning how to live with the loss, one step at a time. And in that journey, I’ve discovered that we’re all learning together.

The Science Behind Grief Anniversaries and Triggers

Grief anniversaries—also known as “grief markers”—are significant dates that reignite the emotions of loss. According to studies in the Journal of Affective Disorders, emotional intensity around these anniversaries is linked to how the brain stores memories associated with trauma and attachment. The amygdala, a part of the brain involved in emotional processing, lights up during these periods, which explains why the grief can feel just as raw as it did in the beginning.

Triggers operate similarly. They are sensory cues—like a song, smell, or location—that reignite emotional memories. Neuroimaging studies have shown that these triggers re-engage the neural pathways associated with the original loss (Neimeyer, R. A., 2001), and even years later, they can stir grief responses ranging from tears to panic to numbness.

So no, you’re not “overreacting” when an unexpected trigger breaks you down in the middle of a grocery store or leaves you sobbing in the car. You’re human, and your brain and body are responding to profound loss.

My Personal Experience

I’ve always found November unbearable. My dad and my son Dakota passed away just days apart that month, a time my family has come to call “Hell Week.” The air itself feels heavier. There’s no real space to breathe between remembering, grieving, and trying to find some kind of peace as Christmas creeps closer. The pain is a constant hum in the background, and some years, it roars.

Then there’s Dakota’s birthday in early December. Every year, without fail, it shatters me. Oddly enough, even more than the anniversary of his passing. Last year would have been his 30th birthday. He was just shy of 25 when he passed, and somehow, the idea that he would be 30 hit me like a freight train to the heart. That night, after a long day at work pretending I was fine, I collapsed in a hotel room and cried myself to sleep—for his lost future, for my daughter’s pain, and for the simple, selfish ache of wanting to see him again.

But I’ve also found a small way to bring light to that darkness. Each year, on his birthday, I choose a charity he would be proud to support. In year three, it was the Diabetes Foundation. Last year, it was an animal shelter, in memory of his beloved cat, Nala, who passed a couple of years after him. These acts don’t erase the grief, but they give it somewhere to go. A purpose. A sliver of peace.

As for celebrating his birthday in any other way—I'm not there yet. And maybe that’s okay. Healing doesn’t come with deadlines.

Coping with Triggers

In the early days, everything was a trigger. Songs, grocery stores, his clothes, his laugh, even watching his sister wear something of his. One of the worst was seeing my empty passenger seat and imagining him there, car dancing, laughing, alive. These days, those triggers are fewer. They still sting, but not like they used to.

One moment that sticks with me recently: I found a bin of my dad’s old things and came across a notebook full of poetry he’d written. His handwriting was as terrible as ever, but I could read it—thanks to years of training by my mom. My daughter and I read it together, and instead of crying, we were in awe. For the first time, it was a beautiful kind of grief. A connection, not a breakdown.

Triggers haven’t disappeared. Sometimes it’s bad weather that reminds me of how proud my dad would be to see me make it through it safely. Sometimes it’s having to do math without the two people I always turned to for help. (Yes, I use my phone calculator now—no shame in that!) But even in those moments, I’m learning how to sit with the sadness instead of fighting it.

That has been a powerful shift—just letting myself be in the grief without judgment.

We Are Learning Together

I want to be clear: I’m not an expert. I’m still figuring all of this out. There’s no blueprint for healing, and I’m not here to pretend I have it all sorted. And maybe that’s the most important thing I can share—we are learning together. I hope that if you’re walking through your own season of grief, you’ll feel a little less alone knowing that. There is no perfect way to honor the ones we’ve lost, no single “right” way to grieve.

But there are better days ahead. And when they come, we’ll face them together.

#boldstepsforward #griefsupport #griefjourney #healingjourney #learningtogether