Crying Over Strawberries at the Checkout

So you're in the grocery store on a picturesque Colorado day: warm, bright and filled with summer promise. You're loading your quart of ripe summer strawberries at the checkout and thinking about the possibilities. Sliced strawberries, spongy cake and freshly whipped cream. Smoothies. Icy cold strawberry margaritas. You catch the scent of the berries as they pass into the sales clerk's hands through the scanner and into your canvas bag (cheers to yourself for saving the planet one bag at a time!).

But before you can swipe your card, you're hit with a pang of something you can't place, like a loaf of day-old baguette leveled to the gut.

By the time you home in on your car and place your heavy eco-friendly bag into the back of your car, you're in tears. That is to say, you're beginning to convulse with sobs. One minute you're thinking about strawberry shortcake and drinks on the patio, the next you're bemoaning your lack of a scrap of anything resembling a tissue.

In the words of Marge Gunderson in the movie "Fargo" after she apprehends her depraved suspect, you think, "And here ya are, and it's a beautiful day. Well. I just don't understand it."

Then, like the ends of a seat belt, it clicks. Picking strawberries on a summer's day. The scent wafting through the air. Father's Day. Your Dad.

Agape bereavement counselor Karrie Filios calls this a trigger, and as confounding as it can seem when it hits, it's a normal part of grief. It can happen weeks, months, or years after losing someone you love.

Life is full of triggers that may remind us of a people we've lost: the smell of fresh-cut grass, Old Spice or a trip to Ace Hardware. Such episodes can be painful and surprising. They can also be a gift, our body's way of remembering and bringing a memory to mind.

Slice those fresh strawberries. Make fruity margaritas and toss those red gems on shortcake with loads of whipped cream. Then toast the person who not only played a significant part in your life, but lives on in your heart and your remembering. And to remember is to honor.