Easter Sunday 2018

I remember our first Easter after David had died. A sweet friend of mine remarked that the day must be especially wonderful and meaningful for me. She meant that the Easter message of hope and resurrection must be resonating deeply in me.

I was not feeling joyful; I was missing David painfully and feeling the loss to him of all the experiences mortality has to offer a young man in his late twenties. I smiled and thanked her: I would never want her to know she added to my misery. I didn’t have the self-possession to talk about my deep feelings.

This year is different. I still miss David and mourn the loss of him and to him. Random experiences bring tears to my eyes and emptiness to my heart. But they are fewer, further between, and shorter in duration. I sang “Christ, the Lord, Is Risen Today” with our ward choir with no pang of sorrow, no uncontrollable tears.

Last night, at bedtime, Jim really wanted to watch a movie. We are on a Fred Astaire kick (sorry, couldn’t resist. No, I could have, but I didn’t.) For Christmas, Jim gave me Fred Astaire’s autobiography, along with a book about his early career with his sister, Adele, and an over-sized, comprehensive book about each of his many films, with hundreds of screen shots from the dances. We’ve been working our way through the Astaire/Rogers movies (all of which we own), while dipping into this comprehensive tome.

Spoiler Alert!

Next in the chronological queue was The Vernon and Irene Castle Story. I remember vividly the first time we watched it, sometime after David died. As the final credits rolled we sat silently, stunned and frozen. We had trusted Fred Astaire to deliver a light-hearted confection. But suddenly, Vernon Castle is killed during a routine military plane exercise, hours before a long-anticipated reunion with his wife. I looked him up today: he was 31. David was 27.

We didn’t finish the movie last night, not out of sorrow but sleepiness. I probably will cry at the end: I usually do. But it won’t be devastating; I won’t feel abandoned by Fred Astaire.