Somebody just reminded me that today is Palm Sunday. Of course it must be, next Sunday is Easter.
In the past, by this time we would have probably bought the Easter eggs that, come Easter Sunday, would be hidden for the children’s annual Egg Hunt.
I’d have the menu planned and friends invited to our holiday lunch. But then, we would also have our three children under our roof.
Andrew would be home from college on his spring break, Robert would already be home, but he too on spring break. And this time last year, since she was doing her master and not yet working full-time, Florentina too would be home on her spring break.
To be perfectly honest, I can’t say that this time last year we had the most idyllic Easter of our lives, for we were in the midst of selling our house. Yes, we did have Easter eggs, a nice meal with friends… but the move was foremost on our minds and everything was hectic.
We were selling the home we had built and lived in for the last twelve years. Neither Hugh nor I had lived in the same country, area, let alone house for as such a long, uninterrupted length of time, and it goes without saying that neither had the children.
Moving is unsettling, no matter what the circumstances, and our family had moved not only house several times, but country too. Yet, for some reasons, last year’s move was different. Not for me too much – to be honest I was rather excited by the prospect of playing house in a different house. But the children were sad to be leaving their childhood home.
Easter of last year was the last holiday we celebrated in the pretty Center Hall Colonial we had built and lived in since September 1997. It was also the last big Holiday that we all spent together.
I remember gregagging (congregating) in Florentina’s room, late in the afternoon, after our guests had left. Hugh in the armchair, Florentina, Robert, Andrew and I on her bed, all trying to fine tune the upcoming May move.
Picking our way through a major Tag Sale, Andrew’s finals, Florentina’s graduation, Andrew’s birthday; it was a major logistical endeavor, a monumental amount of work; but we did it and I was really proud of all that we/I, had achieved.
Coming back to now though, we are still able to say “this time last year,” but this time next year we won’t, or rather when this time next comes and we say, “this time last year,” all that will have changed or happened, will be the length of time that we have been without Andrew.
This thought alone is making my chest tighten and hard to swallow.
And so, while it is still not too far for me to reach, pardon me if I leave you while I go and dive in my not too distant past.