I was completely unprepared for the feeling of sadness that had come over me. We are sailing in a natural paradise, the wind carrying us along with its gentle power. We had tried to connect with my daughter but our missed connections and the poor holding in San Pedro propelled us on our path South. A year ago, anticipating our fall departure, many friends and family joined us for Easter dinner. My house really could not accommodate the numbers, but card tables and missed matched china did not dampen the good time we all seemed to have. I attribute my Roman Catholic upbringing to my fondness for Easter. As a small child I remember the excitement of getting a new dress and patent leather shoes and hoping that in the hills of Western New York it would not snow; not for that special day, not so that I would have to wear boots and a snowsuit to church. There were plenty of times that it did snow on Easter…After I had begun to receive the sacraments, I faithfully attended Mass every day during Lent; how else could I assure myself I would get to heaven? Holy Week was the climax to that time of reflection and penance and Easter Sunday was the long awaited example of hope and future. The years eroded my adherence to the dogma of the Catholic Church but I continued to search. For several years I trekked to Mount Savior Monastery in Elmira, New York for the Easter service. At 4 or so in the morning the congregation gathered in the lower level of the chapel where the service took on the representation of going to the tomb and in the darkness the monks filled the entire space with the vibrations of Gregorian chants. We processioned to the chapel in the round and at the end of the service the sun surrounded us. Piped-in trumpet music joyfully sounded over the grounds as participants were invited to join the monks for breakfast in the dining hall.
My family always gathered for Easter. In my younger years my paternal grandmother brought us all together – and with her 9 children, there was always a houseful; lots of laughs and later in the day, singing around the piano – my mother played. We may not have been good singers but we were enthusiastic! When I had my own family my parents would usually come to Connecticut for Easter. One year I especially remember: it was an early Easter and Chelsea, my daughter, orchestrated the funeral for our pet dog that had died. The grave was dug and hymns and flowers were arranged. Chelsea led us with great devotion, wearing her mantilla and reading prayers she had chosen from the bible. I read the expression on my devoutly religious mother’s face: she was unsure if it was “proper” to be honoring our dog in this was but in the spirit of the family she did participate.
In recent years as our lives changed I continued to have a need to bring friends and family together for “community” at this holiday time. Easter egg hunts were always part of the day for my kids. It was a sweet transition to watch the next generation become the organizers of the event for the neighbor kids and for our cousins Laura and Caroline. It was always fun to watch the adults as well as the kids during the hunt. Some could not hold their own excitement when seeing an evasive egg and the antics for directing one of the kids to also discover the errant treasure created much laughter and excitement.
Bringing up these memories in my mind allowed me to smile and regard those times with pleasure and joy. Dan and I had a “special” strudel for breakfast on Easter morning and later in the day we called friends and family to share the cheer. Easter 2010 will go into my memory bank and I suspect one day I will recall this special way we celebrated.
