By Gwen Rockwood, newspaper columnist and mama of 3
Spring is supposed to be a happy time of year – the warmth, the sun, the flowers in bloom. But for me, it’s often a sad time because the month or so leading up to April 20th takes me back to the year my big brother died on that date. It was nine years ago. He was 34, and he slipped away in his sleep so unexpectedly that it shook our family to its core.
Even when I consciously remind myself not to think about it, it’s as if my subconscious feels the approach of that day. The time leading up to it has a certain dread hanging over it. Sometimes it makes me edgy, impatient. Sometimes it makes me sad. But mostly, I just miss him.
When April 20th passes, so does my personal season of sadness, and I feel a certain relief.
I’m not unique in any way because most of us have our own season of sadness. We experience it at different times of year for different reasons and in different ways. And, for the most part, it’s invisible. The people around us see us going about our business the way we do any other time. Because by now, we’ve learned what all of us must learn at one time or another – that grief is not necessarily something you “get over.” You just learn how to quietly carry it with you as you live your life.
But at certain times of year, the invisible wound opens up a little, enough that you can feel the sting of loss all over again.
Perhaps the weather has something to do with it. A gorgeous spring day – the kind that brings a perfect 70 degrees with a warm breeze and abundant sunshine – reminds me of the day we buried him. Because it, too, was a gorgeous spring day. And I remember thinking how ironic it was that my heart should be so broken on the prettiest day of the year.
But here’s the upside of it which makes it all okay. I’m particularly lucky because my season of sadness is interrupted this year by Easter. And it’s hard to be down about death when you’re thinking about the one holiday that’s a true game changer. I imagine that losing someone you love would be nearly unbearable if you didn’t have Easter on your side – if you didn’t believe that, because of Easter and what it means, you’d see that person again one day. That assurance is the one and only salve that comforts this kind of wound.
To get ready for Easter, we dyed eggs with the kids today, and it was really fun. Five-year-old Jack picked out our egg-dying kit this year, and he chose a Paas brand kit that helps you make Easter eggs into little monsters, complete with one-eyed stickers, crazy teeth and even wild-looking glue-on hair.
I smiled when he chose that one because I knew his uncle would have chosen the same thing if he were here to help us dye eggs. It reminded me of the crazy-looking figures he used to doodle on the church bulletin just to entertain me during the sermon when we were kids.
So now our kitchen table has a colorful display of one-eyed, hairy monster Easter eggs, and I’m feeling decidedly better, despite the season. Because in a few days, Easter will be here again. Easter changes the game. Easter transforms seasons of sadness into pure joy.
From my family to yours, have a blessed holiday.
