I think back to when I was a kid...a non-JW one. Easter was the time of new dresses, chocolate bunnies (you had to bite the ears off first to make sure it was the solid kind), ham with the little cloves stuck right in it, and peaceful family time.
During my JW years I didn't 'celebrate' it, but it slowly but surely became a 'family' time. My flesh and blood sister (JW) and all my step family (non-JW) would congregate at the parents' place and we'd play games and eat and laugh. We didn't spend Christmas with them, but Easter was sort of the replacement. Birds would be out in the yard, the kids would eat their chocolate, and we'd all enjoy being together.
Mom died on Easter weekend, 3 years ago. She was so sick, so tired, and I sat with her, alone on Easter Sunday in her hospital room in the palliative ward. My sis was being picked up from the airport and it was just me and Mom. Mom was so drugged on morphine she was basically out of it, but occasionally she would be lucid enough to know I was there, and to smile at me. I sat cross-stitching, one of the crafts she taught me that my left-handedness could adapt to. It was a cross-stitch we'd worked on together, and I was finishing the actual stitching. The deal was that she would do the french knots, the things I never could quite manage to get right. The cross-stitch got finished, except for those knots. I don't have the heart to even attempt them.
I can feel the quiet in the hospital room like it was yesterday. In my broken heart, it was just yesterday.
After she died, I held on to the hope of the resurrection. I knew that as a non-JW there was no guarantee of it, but I held on. Now, with my eyes open, my beliefs shattered, I am dealing with the horrible reality that I will never see her again. Before it was contingent on my staying faithful, now there's absolutely nothing I can do.
I've been crying for 2 days, not sleeping, not eating. It's like she just died all over again. And there's no "friends" or family, no god, no place to stand to make it better. It hurts so much not to be able to put my arms around her, to not feel her arms around me.
Part of me is mad that I was fooled, lulled into believing I had the answers. I don't. I don't know anything. I don't trust anything.
But mostly I just feel this aching emptiness that won't go away.
Thanks for listening. The only way to keep this turned outward is to keep getting it out.