It’s Easter weekend and I feel what I always feel when the holidays come about. I’m missing out on life. I’m missing out on joy, the happenings. The house is emptied of the babies who more often than not stay to themselves. Their presence alleviates the weight of the missing however.
So, I go online, read others’ thoughts, enjoy the pictures of celebratory dinners, happy families and loving couples doing and doing, making and making: life.
Yes, holidays can be tough when you’re alone.
And then you realize that not everyone celebrates the same holidays or even care they exist. So on those days, you’re an infidel, betraying the spirit in you that wishes to share, celebrate, connect. On thanksgiving, you’re Canadian and head to the beach until sunset. On Christmas you’re Jewish and on Easter you’re Muslim. It is quite useful, the ability to play with ideology and faith. Never an atheist though, too close to narcissism for one who believes there’s a power greater than the human mind and lives inside her mind, though many atheists do jump on the bandwagon for culture’s sake at times or for whatever reason despite their unbelief.
On this Sunday eve of Easter when one dies to make us one, I sit in my spot awaiting once more: providence.
PS: if ever you’ve posted on social media and people tell you not to or try to limit your thoughts, you or write who cares, remember there are folks out there who do care and do enjoy your updates. Some of us live solely vicariously through others. We exist and you my dear are appreciated so much more than the naysayers would have you believe. Keep being you, someone out there rejoices in you being you.