How an L.L. Bean catalog became about my dead dad
Navigating the endless array of grief-y objects
“Grief trap doors.” This is a phrase I started using right after my dad died, inspired by a term I learned from The Good Mourning Podcast - “grief bombs.” Grievers probably know instantly what I’m talking about. It’s that moment where you’re sucked back into your loss. Where your perfectly normal day stops because something brought your grief to the forefront. I felt the idea of a trap door better described my feeling because it conveyed the loss of control I felt. The complete blindsidedness when I would hear a song that reminded me of my dad. Or when I saw a little girl with her dad, standing next to each other in the grocery store trying to pick out an ice cream flavor.
My grief-y-est (yes, we’re creating that word right here!) grief trap doors are now objects. And they run the absolute gamut. My days can sometimes feel a bit like playing whack-a-mole where thing after thing reminds me of my dad. And then some days are silent - no grief trap doors, no objects that make me immediately want to crawl back into bed.
My most recent experience of repeatedly falling through these grief trap doors via objects was a few weekends ago. One of my very good friends from law school was visiting me and it was one of the first times I’ve been able to host a friend in my new home. And she had just celebrated her 40th birthday, so it felt like celebrations all around!
The first day she was here, I got an L.L. Bean catalog in the mail that morning. AKA the first grief trap door and the first grief-y object. My dad used to read the L.L. Bean catalog like it was the most interesting piece of literature on the face of the earth. Each fall/winter he would spend an entire afternoon perusing through the catalog to pick out one, if any at all, thing to buy for himself. Normally a coat or a sweater since he was constantly cold and he felt that L.L. Bean made quality warm clothes (which I believe too!).
Later that day we visited a new athletic clothing store that opened up near my home. Yes, dear reader, the second grief trap door! This was a store my dad never knew about, but it is veteran owned and my dad served in the Navy for 24 years. They had a line of caps and I absolutely would have bought one for Christmas for him. I found myself saying out loud “he would have really liked this place.”
And then finally, the third grief-y object! On my way to a wine shop, I spotted a Toyota pick-up truck that looks exactly like the one my dad owned and that we still have. Another regular, ordinary thing that just made the day even more grief-y.
When you’re grieving, it isn’t just the objects your person once owned that take on new meaning and can sometimes carry pain. It isn’t just the photos of them. It is any and every object that can be a reminder of them. And dear reader, those are everywhere. And they can turn any ordinary day into a very grief-y one instantly.
I found this video of Nora McInenry talking about her dead husband’s vacuum (I say dead husband because she remarried!) and how even though it doesn’t work she won’t get rid of it. Knowing that she’s out there with a broken pink vacuum that gives her the feels helps me feel less alone and less ridiculous! And I hope it does the same for you.
If you’re open to sharing, I’d love to know what was the last grief-y object that really brought up big feelings for you!
Drop it in the comments. Let’s talk about and cry over broken vacuums and L.L. Bean catalogs together.
Big hugs xx.