Reflections on a lonely easter

It’s time to grow up. No more egg hunts, chocolate bunnies or coloring kits. 

This weekend was painful. My kids are teenagers now and would likely have preferred a pair of $200 sneakers over a thematic Lego set and stuffed bunny. I wasn’t willing to pull the trigger and frankly, they didn’t even realize there was one. 

We have a small family. My parents are both deceased, and my brother is distant. My husband’s family is far off and forgetful. Everyone else is busy.

The reality left a gaping hole in the weekend, and an opportunity to feel lonely. Of course I was drawn to social media where I saw all that I wasn’t experiencing: Egg hunts, chocolate bunnies and egg coloring. FAMILY. 

People innocently promote their joyous events. I can’t blame them. I would, too. But, it definitely leaves a wake and I found myself sucking in water. 

Three days on I’m still feeling the effects, but I’m also finding comfort…even energy…in something else: AN EMPTY BOX.

When we have an empty box, we have an empty box. By empty box, I am referring to the event/weekend/happening that leaves us feeling that gaping loneliness. An emptiness. 

For several days, I’ve wallowed in that box. I’ve felt its echo-y, blank walls that lightweight felt like the best environment for insanity. When there are no windows, doors, colors or artwork, depression is an easy path to choose. 

Today, though, I’m seeing it differently. I’m starting to wonder about filling that empty box. 

What if I filled it with some of my most favorite objects? 

Or, how about visions of the undeniably inspiring sunny Spring day passing me by right in this moment? 

What about time? What if I saw that an empty box represents TIME? 

Sure, I enjoyed filling and coloring rainbow eggs. But, that time can be used for writing, or 3,000 other things I never manage to find time for these days. 

I may not have an extended family to spend the day with, but I have an Ancestry account that could use some focused energy. I have historic photographs to organize. It could be an opportunity to begin recording my own life story so my own children can oneday feel that familial extension I miss.

It’s an opportunity to meditate. To start a project. To think differently. To fill the box with whatever inspires me today, right now, and tomorrow. 

That’s what fuels us anyway. It isn’t the eggs, chocolate, or frankly…the family. It’s an empty box waiting for treasures. What’s in yours? 

Photo Credit: Clem Onojeghuo