"Hugh immersed in creative endeavor"

Hugh immersed in creative endeavor

“It’s going to be a strong sun today,” my husband says, gazing out the window.
“It’s Easter today,” I say, by way of explaining the sun that has broken through the clouds.
“How’s your sense of humor?” Hugh asks me, then, without waiting for an answer, he adds. “He got his son!” The unsteady tone of his voice prompts me to look up from my laptop and turn towards him, his eyes are red and moist. I misunderstand him. Because Hugh sees Andrew as the sun, I think he is saying that Andrew has his sun up there.
“And you have yours.” I say, looking at the new, exuberant sun shining high in the sky.
“I wish,” his voice breaks.
“Oh!” Suddenly it dawns on me. It is not the sun he’s talking about. “You mean God has got his son?!”
“Yes,” he says, and gets up.

Since Andrew died, Hugh has joined the choir at the Church where Andrew’s funeral was held. Hugh used to sing in his school choir when he was a child. A soprano before his voice broke, he is now a wonderful tenor. The weekly practices and Sunday singing are for him what the counseling sessions are for my daughter – therapy.

Ever since we got married, almost twenty-five years ago, come Easter time, Hugh has always been the one boiling eggs and getting us all to paint them. Following an old Northumberland – North England – custom, after the Easter meal has been eaten, the prettily painted-hard-boiled-eggs come into action.
Each with their chosen egg, engages in Jarping. Jarping is a battle of the eggs, each egg hitting another egg at both ends, the skill lying in breaking the other person’s and not your own.
You may find this hard to believe, but over the years you learn how best to hold your egg when hitting another egg, thereby reducing the chances of your shell cracking.

"Florentina & Andrew egg jarping at Easter"

Andrew & Florentina egg jarping at Easter - With his left arm straight, Andrew is holding his egg away from his body ready to strike, Florenina is holding her egg in her right hand, close to her body to lessen the impact.

Andrew was one of the family’s best egg holders – the term actually is Jarper – you can see how much fun one can have with the whole thing.

“We should get some eggs,” Hugh said a couple of days ago.
“We don’t need any more…. Oh… Hugh… I can’t do egg jarping, not this year, not without Andrew.”
“Okay,” he agreed.

Hugh has just left, running to join the Choir in time.
Our usual young friends, more like our adopted children (a special group of our children’s friends), will come to lunch and soon I will start cooking.
But for now, sitting up in bed, writing, reflecting, closing my eyes and meditating, I try to shake the confusion that I’ve been feeling since Andrew died.
“He’s dead. He can’t be dead. Why is he dead? He can’t be really dead. How can he be dead. But he is dead. When will I see him again?”

Yes Andrew, when will I see you again?


10 thoughts on “Easter

  1. Happy Easter Esmeralda!

    I used to think I could bring Kerry back, if I focused hard enough. Now, I realize he’s not gone, he’s just not here. I say this often because it comforts me. It’s not enough but I am comforted knowing that the bond of love is unbreakable.

  2. Something kind of weird happened to me today … but I’m too embarrassed to put it here in case it’s a Facebook thing (although I’m sure it isn’t Tigs, honest!) … I’ll tell you about it when we next speak.

    I’m thinking of you all today … and Tigs is with you heart and soul and in every way he can be. He will help to make a beautiful day out of what might have been a sad one.

    All my love x

    • Our love to you. Yes the weather is beautiful, yes the smell of the cooking is yummy…. but my Andrew, My Andrew, my master Jarper)))))))))))))))

    • It was Tig, don’t doubt it. The first time you and him became friends was one Easter, picnic in the woods with the parents and the something Bells. We ate our hard boiled eggs and you started walking with Florentina, suddenly Tigs toddled after you calling out: “Me too Aunt Nooshk”
      I still remember that moment very clearly: the woods, the hard boiled eggs, little Florentina, tiny Tigger and you. Everyone else, everything else is on the outside of the picture frame.
      Tigger communicated with you through Facebook

  3. Esmeralda-

    Is there an e-mail address to contact you privately? Or did I miss it somewhere? I want to tell you about my ADC.


  4. Aloha E~
    This sweet post shows the interaction of parents grieving in different but healing ways. What a sweet glimpse into Hugh’s grieving. I hope he felt comfort today singing, as I daily hope for you when I read your blog posts. Please take care of one another. As you know tragedies can destroy or strengthen a family unit. Take good care.

    Ps. I wonder what Hugh sang today. I find great solace in Easter music. I know I will see my son again~ most likely in spirit when it’s my time to experience death. But I also know at some future time my son and I will be restored to our physical bodies to be able to joyfully embrace one another. This knowledge continues to give me so much comfort and hope. The other anchor of hope that steadies me in the storm of grief is my belief in a infinitely loving Heavenly Father who I know I can trust to take care of my son while I cannot. (((hugs)))

    • They sang: Risen Alleluia – I want to walk as a child of the light – Hail Thee, Festival Day – Psalm 118 – Jesus Christ is risen today – Come ye faithful –
      This is some of the music.
      Take care kukunaoka 🙂

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