The Easter Bunny always comes to our home strewing its gifts across our beautiful back garden hiding its wares under the bridges, around the ponds, the logs and flowers pots. It is an annual ritual at the crack of dawn for the children to peer out of the windows, their breath fogging and their fingers etching the clean glass with their prints, waiting expectantly for their parents' wakefulness. Together we would head out, traditionally in the damp, to ferret out the eggs - blue and yellow for Cameron; pink and purple for Erin. We usually found as many golf balls as eggs hidden amongst the shrubs and under trees so there was double treasure. And so it was today.
Michael and I had braced ourselves for the absence of the exuberance of our younger member whose enthusiasm and joy had buoyed the family. Cameron's excitement had waned somewhat over the past 2 years but Erin's contagious enthusiasm always drew him in. This year therefore there was no tugging on the sleeve to bolt in to the garden and Cameron sat nonchalantly engaged with an electronic device on our awakening.
However, we were offered a different perspective on an otherwise very sad morning. A friend - one of my quiet angels - phoned early this morning before we had a chance to gather the Easter Bunny's offerings. She related her girls' wistful memories - as they read their bedtime story last night - of Erin spending the night with them Easter Sunday eve last year on an impromptu sleepover. She reminded us that this time last year Erin was not in fact pressing her nose to the windows in hopeful anticipation on Easter Sunday. Our house last year was as quiet as it was this! We'd recouped our daughter from her sleepover at the Lion's Bay annual Easter egg hunt where she showed no interest in collecting the myriad of mini eggs spewed across the field and beach. On return home we'd headed out in to the garden for our annual Easter Bunny ritual only to discover the crows had had ample time to search out the plastic eggs, and had picked them up and strewn them on the golf course. Some of the plastic eggs had been opened and the contents picked at but some of the plastic eggs with their contents were still intact. The golfers were now in full play and our children had to dash out between tee-offs to search for their entitled wares now hidden across the golf course green.
Our friend's anecdote was a helpful and important reminder to us that nothing stays the same. Life moves on, evolves, shifts and twists. Nostalgia and memories are important, but what was will not be replicated in the future. Everything changes and each day brings with it small losses - clothes outgrown, teeth lost, baby/childhood speech pattern alterations and quaint habits abandoned for more sophisticated ones. Our Easter Bunny tradition is no exception.
Nonetheless this year we again went to the Lion's Bay Easter egg hunt which was a joyful affair given the sunshine. Cameron participated with enthusiasm in collecting eggs and we participated with equal enthusiasm in the egg and spoon race, the sack races, and the raw egg toss. It was a time of community coming together and an annual family celebration of rebirth.
Immediately after that we were taken for our first glimpse of Erin's growing Enchanted Forest, and Easter Sunday was a fitting time to make our first visit. Quiet workers (more of our angels) are lovingly shaping a beautiful tribute to our girl nestled in the mossy recesses of the woods amongst the tall strong cedars alongside a stream. Steps have been carefully carved out to create a figure of eight path. Each twist and turn has a new delight - an owl, frogs, an angel, brightly painted pebbles with messages of Erin, a tiny door to 'enter' a tree, lanterns, beaded 'Es' for Erin made by her Brownie troupe, and little imaginative landscapes. Over time it will grow and grow as the community and her friends add to it, and it will be a feature in this writing journey.
It was an astonishingly uplifting experience and we felt Erin alive in its beauty and more importantly upheld in the profound love and care of the people committed to its creation. Our daughter is not forgotten - her spirit lives on in the hearts and minds of those who knew her, and indeed even in the hearts and minds of many of those who did not. And that is much comfort.
We wish you a very happy Easter!