Happy Easter, Max

This weekend we celebrated Easter, what should have been Max's first Easter; our first family Easter. I was not feeling well, and being physically unwell meant that I also felt more vulnerable than I have otherwise been lately. Unfortunately, a shit storm came my way at the exact same time, which knocked me to the ground and threatened to undo much of the healing I have worked towards. But more about that in another post, to come.

Instead, I want to talk about the lovely things. Last week, Max's Nanna sent us a very special Easter card. My mum is not one for expressing her feelings like I am. In fact, it is a wonder such a reserved person ended up raising such an emotional sharer for a daughter as me. Because my mum does not share her feelings easily, when I read the card, the words she had so carefully written meant so much more to both of us. How moving those words were, and how much I will forever treasure them.

Every year since I can remember my Mum has given me a pair of new winter PJs for Easter. I don't know where the tradition started, but I guess because the weather starts to get quite cold at this time of year in Tasmania. Given how much I love sleepwear, it is the gift I look forward to most throughout the year, almost! Mum wrote how much she would have loved to have carried on the tradition with Max, and how he should be snuggled up with us in his new Easter PJs right now. She also wrote how much she would be thinking of him, and us, during the holiday.

Since Max died I have witnessed my mum try so hard to let me know that she feels our pain, and that Max will always be a part of her family. I have always loved my mum so deeply. As an only child, and a highly sensitive one at that, I always felt it was my job to protect her. I am fiercely protective of the ones I love. It's a known Cancerian trait! When I was not able to protect her, or when I was inevitably hurt in the process, I suffered greatly. I still do, when I recall those helpless times to mind. Now, however, I see her trying to protect me, and I see her feel helpless that she is not able to do so. And I know how that feels, because that's how I felt when I last held my son in my arms and I could not give him the things he needed to be OK. Having Max has given me a new understanding of my mum's experience, and I feel that is very powerful, and that our relationship will continue to grow so much closer for all that. I am so lucky to have her. She is, in one package, a whole family to me. And that's quite something.

Leslie's family don't really celebrate Easter, as such. Last year the two of us spent Easter in Edinburgh and I very shockingly discovered that Leslie did not even know that Easter Sunday was the day you exchange eggs. He had known Monday as the ubiquitously known Egg-Day as his mother was obviously very thrifty and liked to buy the children's eggs the day after when they were cheaper! As he grew up with no religious education, he is also surprisingly unaware of what Easter traditionally stands for and it makes me realise how much of my catholic-school upbringing was coloured by these stories and beliefs. Even though I don't believe in them anymore, I still find myself quite committed to christianity's stories. I always think of Jesus dying at 3pm on Good Friday, for example. I still feel slightly sick if I eat meat on that day (which I did - chicken!) I still make bad puns about the Last Supper. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I still like to think that we will all rise again to dance about in some tropical, paradisal garden.

We attended a wedding on the evening of Easter Sunday. Though I was feeling quite upset and unwell, and not in a celebratory mood, it was a lovely, lovely wedding - joining two wonderful, and obviously deeply in love people together. They were so excited. So hopeful for the future. So exhilarated. Their parents celebrated their children. Their children celebrated each other. I'm so sorry I could not have had a much better time while I was there.