Like a lot of people, I was wary about wading into the waters of social media. What would I find? Who would find me? But after a few weeks, it had been a wholly positive experience of reconnecting with old friends and making new ones. Then one night my cousin Karla posted a note to me on Facebook that made me realize reconnecting can come at a price.

She’d just heard from someone she hadn’t seen in years. Naturally, her old friend had asked about her children, specifically her eldest son. “You think everyone knows, then you realize they don’t,” Karla wrote. Her 22-year-old son was killed on New Year’s Eve 2001.

Somehow you’ve managed to survive what seemed impossible. You’ve found a way to compartmentalize your grief—not to forget, but to put it in a box and set it aside so you can keep living in spite of it. Then someone inadvertently trips over the box and it explodes. Your wounds are reopened. You’re back where you started, trying to remember how to breathe and wondering how you can tell this story again.

Is there a way to protect yourself from these land mines? Not really. But here are some suggestions that might help minimize their destructive force:

• Accept the inevitable.  No matter how hard you try to inform everyone you’ve ever known about a death in the family or some other catastrophic life event, you will miss someone. We interact casually with too many people each day to account for them all. The harder you try to protect yourself, the more vulnerable you’ll be to those unexpected moments. And even if no one asks about your tragedy, you’ll still face triggers: sights, sounds, smells, songs, people that suddenly stir devastating memories. Rather than trying to prevent the inevitable, take reassurance in knowing this is the past, not the present. You still feel the loss, but memories will never have the power to match the hurt you’ve already survived.

• Prepare a response.  One of the most difficult things about these moments is realizing you have to again dig up and recite a horrible story, explain complicated details, answer difficult questions, discuss uncomfortable issues. It isn’t only painful … it’s wearying. That’s why you should set aside a couple of hours when you feel up to it and write a few paragraphs explaining the event. Don’t worry about your writing style. If you’re not comfortable writing prose, set it up like a typical FAQ. The only objective is to lay out the relevant information, then save it into a file. When someone suddenly asks about your loss, you can briefly say there was a death and you’ll explain later. Then mail or e-mail a copy of your prepared document. Add a note saying you hope the enclosed will answer any questions because you can’t discuss it further.

• Care for yourself.   It may be difficult for those who’ve just learned of your tragedy to quickly drop the subject. You’ve had time to process the information—they haven’t. Not your problem. You have to do what’s best for yourself and your surviving loved ones. So once you’ve provided the fundamental details, be firm about changing the subject. Other friends, family members—perhaps even therapists or support groups—have helped you get this far. Nothing can be gained by reliving your heartaches to help new people make sense of them or to satisfy their curiosity. If they have your best interest at heart, they’ll understand your need to move on. If not, they don’t belong in your circle. A land mine has exploded unexpectedly. But that doesn’t mean you can’t manage the situation and reclaim what peace you’ve found. Just remember … you’ve managed worse.