Easter Sunday: An Untraditional Take

The moment eventually came when it was time to say good-bye to Daddy as he drove off in the silver car to his airport destination.
As we waved our good-byes and blew our kisses he took a picture from his phone.

I can imagine how heavy his heart feels driving away from that picture.

Two sweet boys, barely half dressed, mussy haired with their little fingers waving, mouths calling out, "Love you Daddy!"

Me standing behind them.  Solemn and still feeling sick.  Tired already.  Smiling weakly, hands at the small of one back, on the head of another.

It was Easter Sunday and just as everyone's family was arriving for a delicious Easter dinner, my husband was leaving on a jet plane so to speak.

I was feeling oh so sorry for myself.  Another week plus a day sans the husband and father.

No turkey or ham for us.  No mashed potatoes and gravy.  No external family gathering for a big feast. 

Just us three.  And the dog.

I flipped through take out menus.

Pizza?  Bleh.

Sushi? Only I would eat it.

Middle East? Thai?  That would mean ... looking over at my mostly naked children ... I would have to dress them and pick it up with them in tow.  I barely had the energy to dress myself.

I listlessly paced the kitchen as my boys played as hard as they always do.  Running, wrestling, making a fine raucous with the all too often reminders from me to take it easy, be nice to each other and stop yelling

Perogies it would be.  With sauteed veggies.

I begrudgingly made dinner while calling out to the boys to 'behave', 'settle down', 'stop playing on the stairs...for the hundredth time today!  Someone is going to get hurt!"

I sighed, I flipped veggies and dumplings.  I cursed the fact that I was even cooking dinner for ungrateful little turds who wouldn't even eat them anyway.

I was feeling terribly sorry for myself.  And I hated myself for it.

Then it was time for dinner.  I set their plates down on the table and called them for dinner.

They came.  They sat.  They ate.  (most of their dinner).

Frankly, I was shocked.  And pleased.  Oh so pleased.  My spirits lifted a teeny tiny fraction.

After dinner was done and I began the clean up, music requests came in from my little ones.

I obliged, placing the dishes to the side of the sink noticing the sun shining through our windows.  I opened the doors to let some fresh air in and turned up the music.

This family of mine?  We love our dance parties. 

As they boys and  I did our rendition of Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey's 'The Lift' over and over again to Paulo Nutini's 'New Shoes' and Taio Cruz's 'Dynomite ' my arms became blessedly tired, my face shone with a sheen of sweat...as we swung around, dipped and spun together in the early evening golden light that poured through our living room windows ... as we smiled and laughed til our bellies hurt I realized that though this was not a traditional Easter Sunday with all the family and fixin's, Easter Egg hunts and delicious gravy, though we already missed their Daddy, my husband, with an ache in our hearts and a void in our home, it still was pretty darn special. 

Bittersweetly unforgettable.