Last night, I didn’t want to fall asleep because I didn’t want to reach Easter. Face-to-face with the grief of losing my grandfather earlier this year—simply put— I was afraid. Afraid I’d weep during the beloved hymn, “Christ the Lord is Risen Today.” Afraid I’d see one less spot at our family lunch table and crumple. Afraid I’d be too consumed by heartache and miss the splendor of our first traditional Easter since 2019.
But I woke up this morning, and much to my surprise, I wasn’t afraid.
Yes, a lump was closer to the top of my throat than usual and tears were always just a blink away from falling. However, the heartache of missing all my loved ones who’ve passed on never leaves my thoughts, nor should it. And while the anxiety of proclaiming so publicly our mortality was valid, singing about death’s defeat felt okay. More than okay…it felt normal.
Easter has been a marker of mourning in my mind, whether I care to admit it or not. But my fear was subsided when I realized I’ve been in Easter much longer than this Sunday.
Easter was with me today when I hugged people I haven’t seen in years, but it was also with me when this community was kept alive from our couches on Zoom. Easter was with me when I laughed alongside friends over coffee and cookies as we greeted churchgoers, but it was also with me when I was so lonely and feared I’d never have a community of my own. Easter was with me when I when I heard the magnificent “Hallelujah” chorus among hundreds of other worshippers in the Sanctuary, but it was also with me when I bowed my head to pray quietly for strength last night in anticipation of this day’s significance.
Easter is so much more than the day we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection: it’s our very way of life. Christ’s love doesn’t start and stop on a calendar day. It’s the hope which keeps us moving forward during the hard times and the joy that fills us with gratitude during the good times.
1 Corinthians 13:8 says, “Love never ends.” And neither does Easter.
Rachel Fisher 