Reflections on Easter

Sunday was yet another milestone to get through, our first Easter. It was hard. Easter was always my favorite holiday growing up, and I know I would have had so much joy in sharing it with Emma, even at only 9 1/2 months.

Of course, as a Christian, there is first and foremost the important religious significance the holiday holds. After that, my fondest Easter memories include: picking out a pretty Easter dress to wear to church, going to Sunrise service, enjoying the church pancake breakfast, ham dinner, and my most favorite--getting an Easter basket. My mom is a great Easter basket maker (I say is because, yes at 29 years old I got an Easter basket this year) and I love all the little treasures that hide inside. It's much more than just candy!

Following in her mother's footsteps, Emma would most certainly have had an Easter basket this year, even though she would have had no clue (or care) about it. At 9 1/2 months she would no longer be that little baby that sleeps all day, she would have been a little girl. Full of spunk (I'm convinced she was a feisty girl) and life.

Our first plan had been to skip Easter service this year. I didn't think I was up to it. I was also worried because our church would be decorated with white Easter lilies. Part of Emma's funeral arrangement was white lilies, and their cloying smell still haunts me. On an already hard day I didn't want to sit and be surrounded by white lilies.

A few days before Easter Britt and I talked and he let me know he felt pretty strongly about attending Easter service. I was having a good day and agreed that it would be the right thing to do.

Well, for those of you on this grief journey with me, you know we can't really plan ahead. I woke up Sunday morning, and by the time I came downstairs for breakfast I was crying. I knew getting ready and going to church was more than I could handle. Once the decision was made I felt some peace knowing I could stay home in my safe space. Britt chose to go on his own to church. We were both okay with this decision, and I am so happy that our relationship with each other, and our grief, allowed us to make this decision.

I hope that one day I am strong enough to honor and celebrate Emma on these milestone days, to do something outward and tangible. Right now all I can bear to do is get through the day. Maybe that's okay. Maybe when I think of her and talk to her in my mind I am honoring her in my way. Maybe that's enough.