Holiday misery

The Easter decorations didn't come out this year.  Even the thought of their pastel cheeriness seemed blasphemous in the face of Zachary's absence and our unbearable grief.  Going to church was out of the question.  We haven't stepped foot in our church since Zachary's funeral on January 25.  I can scarcely tolerate seeing all the in-tact families.  And demonstrating any kind of outward praise or worship (the kind that is expected on the celebration of the resurrection..., and really, every Sunday) feels an incredible fraud, when at home, our prayers come out only as cries of pain, mourning and anger.  "Celebrating" the holiday with our extended families was too much to bear without our Zachary.  Everything feels so drastically wrong and up-ended that the normalcy of getting together with family for food and small talk would have triggered an even deeper state of despair for us.

However, we could not totally ignore the holiday.  C.T. expected that the Easter bunny would pay him a visit, as he does each year, and that there would be some form of an egg hunt.  I trudged down to the basement last night to locate his basket and the plastic eggs.  When I found the tub of Easter stuff, there it was.  The basket that would have been Zachary's, handed down from when Cameron was an infant on Easter in 2008.  My knees hit the concrete floor as my wailing echoed throughout our home.  I want my Zachary back.  My baby.  Why?  Why?

We usually buy an Easter lily plant in memory of B.W. at this time of year.  Of course, this year, and from now on, we will always buy two memorial plants on Easter to acknowledge the perpetual absence of two of our three children.  How incredibly unfair.  How heavy the burden feels this year - the first without our Zachary. 

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Today, on Easter, it has been exactly 3 months since I held Zachary, sobbed over him, kissed him a thousand times, as he died in my arms between 3:15 and 5:05 p.m.  The machine stopped breathing for him.  I watched his color fade, until he was gray and cold.  My poor, sweet, beloved baby.   

Zachary was supposed to be here with us this Easter - would have come home from the hospital about 5-7 weeks ago.  I miss him desperately.