Easter – Eggs Post Facto

By Jean Mavrelis - 04.17.2012

I was preparing for Easter brunch a little while back.

Flowers for my patio were delivered, and the macho delivery guy said, “I used to garden with my Mom.”

When I stopped at Fannie May, to buy Easter candy, a woman said, “When I was young, my great aunt was becoming senile, and we found out she only ate chocolate.  Now I understand her.”

Seems like everybody reminisces at holiday time. For me, Easter has its own vibe of reminiscences that has to do not only with relatives past, but also my family’s religious evolution.

My daughter is celebrating Passover.  My son is celebrating the Rite of Spring.

When I was a young Catholic kid, holy week was solemn.  We went to the Stations of the Cross on Good Friday, and I was so sad about each image of suffering.  I would get a powerful feeling in my soul at 3 in the afternoon – the time we believed Jesus died.

I don’t know what Easter means to me any more.  Growing up Catholic, it seemed Lent was sooooo long compared to the one day of celebrating Jesus’ resurrection. Catholics aren’t so much a salvation people as a people who know how to suffer and offer up the suffering for the poor souls in Purgatory.

Easter Sunday meant I could once again eat candy.  Man, how I gorged with that Easter basket.  Now that I’m grown, it’s hard to celebrate the end of suffering – when you grow up there’s always another suffering around the corner.

Life has such sweetness for me right now, that I can’t help but dwell on the fact that it will end.  I miss the old Easter.

Maybe I’ll become a Buddhist and realize and accept that life is suffering, so you might as well eat the strawberry.