Hi Tribe, I would like to wish you and your families a very happy and safe Easter. No matter what you believe in, I hope that you found the time to be with your families and loved ones and celebrated in the way that you need to.

If I’m honest with you all, I’ve had a rough week and I’m feeling the full effects of it. I am tired and seeking rest and things that make my soul feel loved, grateful and connected – seeking the things that feel like a safe, warm hug. So, I will spend today quietly, honouring my need for self care, honouring the need to fill my own cup.

I woke up this morning, at the preposterous hour of 5 am – perhaps channelling my inner child’s Easter morning excitement – and I found myself lost in reflection. My thoughts took me back to memories of Easter’s passed. My family has had brushes with religion and church services – I myself have been to a few on those big days like Christmas and Easter – but we have never considered ourselves to be religious. For us, Easter was never about the resurrection of Jesus, it was about family.

When I lean into those memories. I can see little me rising from bed before the sun. I would pause a moment to listen for my Father’s dulcet snoring tones, before sneakily tip toeing down the carpeted hall way to meet my brother in the lounge room. We would gasp in a mix of awe and excitement at the treasures Easter Bunny had left for us, before tip toeing back to our beds to wait until our parents were ready to rise. Easter morning would begin with a mouthful of chocolate eggs, and a competition to see who could fashion the biggest ball from the discarded wrappers. We would then sit in a chocolate stupor, eagerly waiting for our Grandparents to arrive with more chocolate. Easter was similar to Christmas in that, following the morning’s festivities, we would do “the rounds” and visit family members and friends.

Celebrations like Easter and Christmas changed drastically when my grandparents died. We no longer waited for them to arrive in the morning, we no longer gathered as one big family unit with all of our cousins, indulging in a feast of food and connection. Easter became more insular – our family celebrated within their small units.

Easter and Christmas changed even more as we grew older and our parents invested in caravans and camping. Over the past few years, we spent a fraction of the time with our parents, before often being left to fend for ourselves. The transition from a connected family Easter was a difficult one for me, and I often fought against the tide of loneliness that crept in when I woke up alone, in a silent house, to Easter gifts that I had left for myself. It didn’t have the same feel to it and my gosh, I missed my Grandparents acutely.

When I picture Easter last year, it was even more disconnected. I had spent Good Friday swimming in the ocean, eating prawns and playing board games with a friend and her family of teenage boys and their girlfriends, trying to create new Easter celebrations. But it did little to quell the crash of loneliness and fill the hole created by not having my family around me. I was sad, I was lonely, I was struggling and I was missing the people I call home. On Easter Sunday, I tested positive for COVID and told no one. COVID came with a wave of anger and a feeling of being lied to and let down, which I think probably had more to do with the situation I had found myself in than COVID. Both feelings were buried deep, along side the positive COVID tests and my symptoms.

This morning, in my reflections, I realised how far I had come since last Easter. I have my family around me now, and Easter may be different than it was when my brother and I were children, but it isn’t any less magical. Yesterday, I took Easter gifts to my nieces and nephews, to my brother and his wife and, I recognised the excitement and the joy in their faces. I could give the gift of Easter, the very same one that was given to me – it was now my responsibility to pass that on to the little people in my family. I then drove an hour and a half to spend a couple of hours with my parents, in the quaint town of Ross where they were camped with their caravan group.

Today, I had every intention of staying at home, in my own space, giving myself the down time that my body and my brain are calling so desperately for. However, there was something pressing that I needed to do first. I went to visit my Grandad. He can’t come to us any more, but we can go to him and I knew that I needed to do that today. No chocolate was exchanged, but we gave our time and connection and both are incredibly valuable commodities. My Grandad’s health is declining rapidly, and I saw that this morning when a simple trip to the toilet almost caused him to pass out in front of me. He disappeared behind the closed door and emerged frail, bent over and vulnerable. But I am so grateful to be here with the people that are my home, to spend my time with my family celebrating Easter in a new and different way.

No matter your beliefs surrounding Easter and the meaning behind it, it is a time for love and connection. It’s a time for giving the gift of imagination and possibility, the gift of time and connection. It’s a time for giving the gift of joy! The way we celebrate Easter may change as we grow and with our life experiences. As an adult it may feel a little lonelier, and hold a little less imagination and wonder – but the gift of Easter is still there, we just have to figure out how to give it and how to receive it.