Easter Through the Lens of Grief

Easter Past

I love Easter. As our kids grew up, it was almost a sacred time. After church on Easter Sunday, we would go to my folk’s house for lunch, an Easter egg hunt, and family photos. The kids would line in age order to take pictures. Then, they would get in height order. The Thomas kids spread out nicely in age order, but when it came to height order, they usually gathered at the end of the line. Finally, there was the obligatory photo with Mimi and Bop Bop. What I wouldn’t give to have those days back!

I have other Easter memories. When Bryan was six, he was talking about wanting to become a Christian, and we weren’t sure he was ready to make that decision. We wanted him to understand what he was deciding. So we met with our children’s pastor, Cassie Glover. I still remember it like it was yesterday. She had a stack of chairs in her office, and as she was talking to Bryan about Jesus, she crawled up, around, and over the chairs. I wanted to wrap him in a bear hug on my lap and make him sit still. Honestly, he tracked everything Cassie told him, and when it came time to pray, he was ready.

Then, there were kids’ choir Easter editions (I don’t actually remember if it was Easter or Mother’s Day, but let’s go with it). One year, when we were pretty new to Woodcreek Church, Robin and Bryan were both part of the choir. Robin had a solo.  I imagine they must have practiced together, so when it came time for Robin to do her, Bryan sang right along with all his might. Everyone pointed and laughed, and I just smiled. That’s my boy!

Easter Present

Easter is different now. With grown kids who live out of town and grandkids in waiting (at least for my husband and me), family get-togethers are different. And they carry a hint of emptiness. There is no more lining up for family photos, although the photo in height order hasn’t changed. Bryan would be missing, and there would be no more photos with Mimi and Bop Bop. My mom passed away in August of 2022. 

Good Friday is different. While the date changes each year, the reminders of Bryan are constant. I will be forever grateful for that memory of his decision to follow Jesus because I know I will see him again. And his absence as I sit in Good Friday service reminds me of the grief Jesus’ mother must have felt as she watched her son die.

Kid Choir is different. New kids stand on stage and sing. They are just as adorable, and no doubt their parents shine with glee. This year, two sweet boys I love sang – Derrick (my godson) and Taelan. And I cry, remembering Bryan. You see, Derrick was born six months before Bryan passed away. And Bryan had a sweet way of welcoming Taelan into his world. I still have pictures of Bryan playing on the floor with him. Seeing the boys growing up reminds me that Bryan isn’t. 

Easter Advice

Am I usually finding those reminders every time I turn around? No, I’m not. Probably, if you let yourself, as you remember a holiday, you will remember someone you long to be with. My advice is to let yourself remember: cry, laugh, tell stories, and feel your feelings. As you do, those tears will bring healing (there is science behind that), and the memories won’t hurt anymore.