Well, it's Easter again. Shit.
I should be thinking of Spring, and rebirth, and the blossoming foliage bursting out all around me, but it's always hard to shepherd the memories ... Easter Sunday, a heartache ago, our little toddler home from the hospital, his illness in remission, we took him to the park, with easter eggs, and helped him find them in the grass. He had a good time, rare for him at that late stage of his disease, and went home happy. He climbed up on a chair on the porch, somehow fell off, hit his head, went into convulsions, and in three days he was dead.
Childhood leukemia was always fatal in those days, and everything the doctors did just made it worse. Today, he would survive, and I tell myself the drugs and methods they tried, even though they failed him, eventually worked, so in that way he helped other kids. He was a brave, brave little guy. I love him.
Easter is particularly poignant this year, since we have a new baby in the household, named in his honor. Then of course, I've got Beethoven excavating old memories. The world is blooming, and the great circle of life carries on. sigh.