The tomb is empty. Alleluia.
In the last two week or so, I have memorized the locations of every pot hole from Fairfield to Philadelphia.
When my dad died, he asked me to look after his sister. I have taken that invitation seriously since 2011. When we were in Delaware, we visited often, vacationed with her, and enjoyed many birthdays and special occasions with her. Since we moved in 2016, Aunt B has been with us for holidays and special feasts, not to mention the first stop on any trip south.
She fell Tuesday of Holy Week after being released “too soon,” she says by a doctor who “wasn’t paying attention.” She is nothing if not opinionated. At nearly 83, she has earned that right.
So I came down to Philly. Then again on Wednesday of Holy Week, so I came back. This time, she landed in the hospital and then rehab. I’ve made the trip five or six times and yesterday decided to stay for a day or two. While home last week, Maureen and I visited and spoke with about a half dozen facilities and last night, using the posters my kids made, Aunt B chose one near our house. Today and the next few days will involve trying to get the paperwork filled out, a few things packed, and then moving the patient north.
It’s all very overwhelming for her. We do not like to see the ones we love suffer. Aunt B has been a grandmother to my own children and a confidant to me for quite some time. She is a retired school teacher, lifelong skier, Irish step dancer, and a fighter. She is fiercely independent, so when the doctor told her she can no longer live on her own, it was a punch in the gut. My prayer these last weeks is to implore my dad to help me avoid doing a big thing badly. It is just so hard to make a decision for someone else, especially someone so independent.
Please pray for us this week as we upend our lives to bring her closer and for her as she leaves the only home she’s known for decades. As many of you know, caring for those in their wisdom years can be taxing, even exhausting.
But the tomb is empty, and there is hope all around us. May we find our strength in that simple statement. The tomb is empty.
Alleluia.