Easter would probably be the only day other than Christmas morning I would agree to waking up extra early for. As early as five in the morning, we would drive in our Sunday best, all groggy and sleepy to the quaint, little church where my parents got married, in the campus of my (and my parents’) university. On regular Sundays, the service would be held in the church hall, with rows and rows of wooden pews and glass windows, but on special days like Easter Sunday it’s held outside near the garden. The grounds would be filled with wooden pews from the church and monoblock chairs, and almost every seat would be taken as soon as Sunrise Service starts, and during service, there would be trees and greens, the sun would rise and the choir would sing, and everything would just be beautiful.
As soon as the last note of “Hallelujah” ends, the Church would break the silence and solemnity with the buzzing of ‘hi’s, ‘hello’s, and ‘long time no see’s, as people shuffle to get in line to get their Easter breakfasts. While the rest of the family catches up with old friends, the children would go and search for Easter Eggs on the Church grounds. After several eggs have been found, and my family has run out of relatives and friends to greet, we have our second breakfast in a nearby McDonald’s.
Of course there would be occasional bittersweet Easter Sundays, like the one from years ago when I had nothing but an empty basket and a disheartened soul to show my grandmother during our traditional Easter lunch. However, this is how another tradition began: My grandmother started her own yearly Easter Egg hunt in their garden just in case that awful year decided to repeat itself.
Years go by, and eventually traditions change, I eventually outgrew hunting for eggs, we would be late time a service or two, early for some, too full for McDonald’s, and the complete disappearance of Easter Lunches from our itinerary due to the passing of my grandmother, but we were all thankful for each and every one of those Sundays.
I love Easter Sundays, mostly because of the celebration it upholds, but also because of its incredible way of showing how my family sticks together despite evolving traditions, rapid life changes, and growing up. This year, my father is miles and miles away for Easter Sunday, so we send him our love, and pictures of my celebration Easter chocolate chicks. I miss him not just because of his lack of presence, but because there is no one else here at home who eats whatever confectionary reject there is on the counter. We miss you!
Drama aside, Happy Easter everyone! I hope yours will be as good as mine!
P.S. I’d like to thank Bennette for visiting me, bringing coffee, drawing a portrait of me and helping me make these baby chicks this past week! Here are the adorable cupcakes we made together. She was the one who painstakingly put all the stars and dots on the cupcakes! Here are some pictures and even a video as proof that she did make them. (She said her parents would never believe she baked cupcakes haha)