In Remembrance of Me

It’s Saturday morning of Easter weekend. I know not all of you who read this are Christians or celebrate Easter, but as humans, it isn’t hard to imagine the despair of this day for Jesus’ mother and those who had followed him with such hopes for change in the world. Only to have the means of that change executed in the cruelest way.

When I was a child, we acknowledged Good Friday by fasting, and by staying quiet from noon till three – the hours of the Crucifixion. Our parents didn’t force us to pray or meditate or anything, but we had to stay in our rooms. We had to be quiet. And the solemnity of that remembrance crept in, even if we weren’t really old enough to understand what it meant.

“Do this in remembrance of me.”

I’m sure the disciples were recalling the Last Supper, when he said those words. Had it really only been a little over twenty-fours hours earlier? In their despair and sorrow, it must have seemed like ages had passed.

And then in the Garden afterwards. “Watch with me.”

I’ve written before that my mom passed away from pancreatic cancer when I was twenty-five. I always mark two anniversaries of her death – the actual date, 29 March, and Good Friday/Holy Saturday. She passed about 2 a.m., so technically it was Saturday. It was in the hush of that night, when people around the world were keeping vigil in churches and chapels, or maybe in their homes.

In many ways, my mom’s passing couldn’t have been timed any more perfectly. For me, those vigils around the world were for my mom as much as Jesus. That was a source of comfort at the time. The weather was gorgeous, warm and sunny, and flowers were in full bloom. It was glorious.

In the hush of this early morning, with only birds and a couple of sleepy dogs to keep me company, I can sit and remember. If you’ve been through this, you know what I mean. You hold onto all those little things you recall, a collage of memories, like a quilt, of your last moments with someone you love, of those things you hold most dear about them.

Wishing you all a wonderful day, whatever you may celebrating this time of year. Hold those you love close, and tell them how much you love them.




10 thoughts on “In Remembrance of Me

  1. Thanks for sharing this. I lost my mom when I was 22. She had been a Catholic, but we were raised in the protestant church. When I was twenty I joined the Catholic faith on Holy Saturday. She was present for that ceremony. I always remember this day. Pax.

  2. Thanks, Caren, for sharing this. I was raised Catholic and Easter was always a favorite time of mine. Wishing you and yours the peace of the season.

  3. This was a thoughtful blog post, as always, Caren. There’s something comforting in the rituals of the holidays – the religious ones, but also the cultural traditions that developed alongside them. I was dyeing Easter eggs with my mother earlier today, and remembering how I used to do the same thing at my late Oma’s kitchen table when I was little. Happy Easter!

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