Sadness is unavoidable with these parent holidays, and Joey's death day falling right between them both. Three years ago, on this day in June, we were in stunned numbness, being between two memorial services-- packing up the one in LA, that came after Mother's Day and marching toward the one in Maui which was scheduled for Father's Day. We were reeling from the shock of his sudden death, and the devastation of the cremation that followed. We were sorting through Joey's things, everyone of them now a priceless treasure, and packing them up, and giving them away to those he loved. It was excruciating, and beyond doubt the worst days of my life. Only a couple of weeks before, we had been walking on the beach with him. Death is so cruel. At this time of year, all that comes back in an onslaught.
My friend Melissa pointed out to me that this season comes right after Easter, and that there is a mercy in that. I hadn't considered that. Easter is the perfect predicate to my silent season. When others are wrapping up Lent, my Lent is just starting. But the wonder is that Easter is there at all. Hope prevails. I am into Easter now. Very into Easter. Resurrection, hope, reunion, the end of all tears, sorrow and pain. It is really a blessed portal and backdrop for the two months that follow. It helps me to know that for the rest of my life, my silent season will be prefaced by the most hopeful holiday of them all. I will always have that to look forward to, to brace me, to support me, to undergird me with truth that can carry me through the darkness.
How firm a foundation for grief.