Yesterday, I was trying to resolve a scheduling problem with our international student home meetings when I suddenly realized something. Easter this year is on March 27. That bears a special significance for me.
My mom passed away on March 26, 2005, after a 17-month fight with pancreatic cancer. On the day she was diagnosed, which is easily one of the worst days of my life, the oncologist advised that she might only have weeks. Despite all the challenges that came with it, that 17 months was a blessing for which I’m grateful.
During her last three weeks, she was in the care of the Hospice of East Texas in Tyler. My mom’s sister lives in Tyler, and that was the best in-patient facility around. It still is, to my knowledge. It’s actually a rather beautiful, special place where all the staff work hard to help the patients and families through one of the most difficult times any of us face.
The evening that she passed was right before Easter Sunday. When we all woke up the next morning, my aunt asked if we wanted to attend the Easter service at her church. I’m sure she would have understood if I had declined. But on that day, of all days, the thought of celebrating the resurrection of Christ and all the promise that it brings seemed more timely and appropriate than ever.
This year, for the first time in eleven years, the anniversary of my mom’s passing falls on a Saturday before Easter. On Easter Sunday, I will again celebrate the resurrection of Christ and all the promise it brings.
And if I’m a little distracted in the next few weeks, now you’ll know why.