The Message of Easter … We Grieve With Hope

Kitty would be seven years old today. Instead, she remains an almost-nine-month-old in our hearts and in our memories.  I would love nothing more than to say that after six years, it doesn't hurt anymore.  But, it still does and my heart has ached for the past week.

Easter should have been - quite simply - happy.  Isn't that how we greet one another, 'Happy Easter'?  On a better day, I would have quipped, 'Hoppy Easter!' and then chuckled at my own play on words.  I was supposed to joyfully celebrate the resurrection of Jesus and the promise of life eternal.  On Sunday night, at the end of an exhausting day, I should have plopped myself on the couch and declared that it was the perfect day, the best possible ending to a glorious, wonderful and - yes - happy Triduum and Easter weekend.

This year, however, was not joyful, wonderful or happy.  It definitely was not perfect.  There were far too many reminders.  Kitty's upcoming birthday loomed large on my internal calendar.  She has been consistently on my mind since I mentally flipped the page from March to April.  The below words and my reactions to them only intensified my yearning for Kitty Rose.

*  On Good Friday, Mandy wrote on her Facebook page, "During the Stations of the Cross, the priest says, "Tears are on her cheeks."  The congregation responds with, "And there is none to comfort her."  This year during Holy Week, I find my mind has been focused on Mary and the loss of her son.  I find myself being able to relate to the words spoken in the Stations of the Cross.  A vision and memory of a mom who has lost a child, standing with tears rolling down her face and, even if surrounded by people, feeling so alone."  Reading those words, I became overwhelmingly sad for my daughter.  I will never be able to console her in this grief.  

*  At church later that evening, the homily focused on forgiveness.  Jesus died for us, for our sins.  Our merciful God forgives us, we must forgive ourselves.  As our deacon spoke, all I could think about was son-in-law. Was the accident that took Kitty from us his fault?  Yes, definitely.  But there was never a doubt that we all forgave him.  Yet he cannot - and probably never will - forgive himself.  Could I?  Could you?  Pardon the pun, it's a very sobering thought.

*  Easter Sunday arrived.  'Alleluia!  He is risen! … Indeed, He is risen!'  Oh, Kitty, why am I not comforted in knowing that one day we will be reunited?  I watched as J and G - my twin granddaughters, the two surviving members of the 'triplet cousins' - hunted eggs in the yard.  If only Kitty were here.  Would she be laughing and running with them in search of the coveted golden egg?  Or would she be helping the Dasher and the Basher fill their baskets?  Would she still be taller than her cousins who were born less than two weeks after her?  Or had they caught up - maybe even surpassed her - in height?  I missed Kitty this Easter more than ever.

It's fair to say that this year, Easter could have been much more celebratory for me.  It does not mean, however, that I missed the meaning and the message of the holiest of days.  Christ died for us, for the redemption of our sins.  He rose to give us the promise of eternal life.  As Christians, this is where we find hope and joy.  It is why we do not fear death.  May the blessings of this Easter season live within us. 

We grieve with hope … 1 Thessalonians 4:13.

Happy Birthday, Kitty Rose!
​Grandma loves you.

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