While young children squealed in glee over discovered Easter eggs filled with chocolates and rainbow colored jelly beans and families gathered together in laughter around extravagant brunch tables, she brought flowers to his grave on this Easter morning. She’d added a hint of yellow to his usual roses and calla lilies. And when she finished arranging the flowers and stood under the April sun shining down on his grave, she knew he’d love them. She couldn’t help but smile, remembering the end of her favorite poem by William Wordsworth: For oft, when on my couch I lie/ In vacant or in pensive mood,/ They flash upon that inward eye/ Which is the bliss of solitude;/ And then my heart with pleasure fills,/ And dances with the daffodils.
And her heart with pleasure did fill. No eggs or chocolate or brunch needed.
