Easter is special to me. Christ died for my sins and then rose again. He is in Heaven with my little boy. That should make me happy. So why am I so sad?
Most holidays have been kind of strange since Eli died. Since my best friend was throwing her kids' birthday party at the beach, we decided to make a mini vacation out of it. Will asked me about Easter- I told him that everything is different now, so we might as well celebrate Easter differently. Typical Easter traditions went out the window, such as church, egg-hunting, making creamed eggs, wearing pretty clothes.
It was Olivia's first Easter, and I didn't even put her in an Easter dress. Ben didn't wear the little tux I had pictured in my mind. We didn't go to church. We didn't eat creamed eggs. The only reason Ben even got to dye eggs this year is because Aunt Amy came over with eggs and dye and sort of forced it on us.
We ran to the beach to escape, I think. But it didn't work. Because we were at that beach mere weeks before he died, and I was reminded of him at every turn. Not that he ever leaves my mind, really. But it created such a deep ache in my chest...such a terrible longing. Even now, as I write this, I feel like I might break into pieces. When I close my eyes, I can see him so vividly, sitting on the counter in Island Bob's Deli, eating his muffin cheerfully. I see him lying in the sand, watching the waves crash against the beach over and over. I see him chasing birds down the shore. And then I see him, cold in a tiny white casket, his hair styled like it never was when he was alive, his eyes flat and strange, reminding me of his absence.
I wish I could rewind and do the weekend differently. I wish I could have dressed the kids up and visited with family. I wish we had taken some pictures. I wish I could rewind and do this year differently.
Like so many other nights, I'm aching, crying, wishing I could go back. Back, back, back.
Please, just let me go back.
I'd do everything differently. I'd never let him go. I'd hold him and kiss him forever. I'd buy a different house...one without a pool. I'd.....keep him alive. Keep him safe.
I am broken, never whole, never right.
Most holidays have been kind of strange since Eli died. Since my best friend was throwing her kids' birthday party at the beach, we decided to make a mini vacation out of it. Will asked me about Easter- I told him that everything is different now, so we might as well celebrate Easter differently. Typical Easter traditions went out the window, such as church, egg-hunting, making creamed eggs, wearing pretty clothes.
It was Olivia's first Easter, and I didn't even put her in an Easter dress. Ben didn't wear the little tux I had pictured in my mind. We didn't go to church. We didn't eat creamed eggs. The only reason Ben even got to dye eggs this year is because Aunt Amy came over with eggs and dye and sort of forced it on us.
We ran to the beach to escape, I think. But it didn't work. Because we were at that beach mere weeks before he died, and I was reminded of him at every turn. Not that he ever leaves my mind, really. But it created such a deep ache in my chest...such a terrible longing. Even now, as I write this, I feel like I might break into pieces. When I close my eyes, I can see him so vividly, sitting on the counter in Island Bob's Deli, eating his muffin cheerfully. I see him lying in the sand, watching the waves crash against the beach over and over. I see him chasing birds down the shore. And then I see him, cold in a tiny white casket, his hair styled like it never was when he was alive, his eyes flat and strange, reminding me of his absence.
I wish I could rewind and do the weekend differently. I wish I could have dressed the kids up and visited with family. I wish we had taken some pictures. I wish I could rewind and do this year differently.
Like so many other nights, I'm aching, crying, wishing I could go back. Back, back, back.
Please, just let me go back.
I'd do everything differently. I'd never let him go. I'd hold him and kiss him forever. I'd buy a different house...one without a pool. I'd.....keep him alive. Keep him safe.
I am broken, never whole, never right.
As Christians, we technically celebrate Easter every day, so in the big picture, the traditions aren't that important. What matters is that you were spending time with the people you love most.
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