This is my first Easter without my father and I tried going to bed early so I could block the emptiness I am feeling. The man who baptized me in Woonsocket.RI on Easter night in 1952. He who brought alive the meaning of Easter in his and my mother's living. In a few hours, I shall wearily rise and drive across route 192 to sit in my mother's apartment with her on this, our first Easter without him by our side.
One does not visit with mother anymore, rather one sits WITH her, while she sleeps, and occasionally opens her eyes and smiles at me, and we share an understanding heart. Ringing in our ears will be the joyous Alleluias of Easter Day, of the sunrise services at Hook Mountain, the rock garden which my dad created on the pulpit in Nyack...the orange cans...the Easter Lilies, breakfast at the Aquinnah in Gay Head. In our own way we shall rejoice that it is Easter...oh she and I know all the correct words, the familiar triumphant words and music, and the meaning of believing in His Message.
She and I shall spend the day together...will talk about how much we miss him, and Phyllis and David and the others...we will feel the emptiness of his vibrant being with us, and we shall rejoice in knowing that because of Easter, and the old old story, my dearest friend, her husband of over 60 years is still rejoicing with the Lord....
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