Sunday, April 12, 2009

Easter Musing

No church for me today. In fact, I haven't been to Easter services in quite a while.

We did manage a lovely gathering of four generations in our family for a down home old fashioned lunch with ham, scalloped potatoes, corn casserole, beans and other wonderful dishes plus blackberry cobbler for dessert. Today was Mom and Dad's wedding anniversary too; their 68th.

Although the time spent together was special, the day itself was a sobering reminder that time has left its indelible mark on the health and stamina of our elders. I know they enjoyed the efforts we made to celebrate with them but everyone, including them, knew that it was just plain hard work to make it happen. I thought about pictures, something to commemorate the event but my camera gave out after the first shot; "battery exhausted" it said. I figured this was meant to be and that remembrances of this Easter would need to be archived in the "mind's eye".

Another part of my somber mood is about missing my daughter, so far away in Sicily, lonely and disconnected from her traveling companions, faced with a stormy, cool day instead of the sunny day they had expected, and all the restaurants closed for the holiday. Turns out they eventually found some place to eat; they'd burned through all their snacks by mid-day apparently and were on empty. She'll be home soon enough (2 weeks from tonight, in fact) but the waiting and the big push through exams and packing up after seven months abroad seems daunting; for her and for me.

It's almost dusk in Seattle. A rainy, cool day here as well although as the sun sets, the sky is clearing on the brisk breeze that blows out those low hanging damp clouds. I'm glad this emotional day is coming to a close. Another Easter passes. Maybe next year the mood will be lighter. Brighter. Less heavy with sadness.


  1. I pray you're right about next year. "Battery exhausted" describes how I feel today after an emotionally charged week-end, where details of impending changes were finally shared...and my heart is heavy.

  2. What a complex and rich picture of a day. Full of joy, fleeting and uncaptured, sadness, anticipation, loss and promise of reconciliation. You write so well.


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