Easter is a holiday with memories that override the happy days as a child and when my children were young and would celebrate my favorite of religious holidays. Everything changed when my first born drowned in a chemical waste pond on Easter Sunday after we had attended church, hunted for eggs, and consumed a celebratory meal. Even though it was back in 1985 every year it hurts as if it had just occurred. There is such a spiritual bond shared with my children that every year I am reminded of how quickly a time of joy can turn to a time of horror to haunt you forever. I have had counseling, raised two other children and have a twelve year old at home, but on Easter my thoughts are consumed with Eric. As parents we don't feel it is correct to favor one child more than the other, and honestly this is not the case. I simply miss him more than the others because his life was cut short by a accident that was uncalled for and should never have happened. Eric was the first of four, and his birth awoke the feelings of motherhood and family to an extreme. He taught me how the world appeared in a child's eyes and gave me my first unconditional love as a parent. Losing that child killed something in the entire family. Thankfully the others have been able to go on with their lives and remember him with the pure love he gave us.

The first few years after losing him I felt it was my duty to show my feelings and I would be dishonoring his memory if I were to have joy in my heart. I soon realized how petty that was and knew that he was simply too good for this earth and God had a better place for him. I studied the bible and knew deep in my heart that it was up to me to live the best life I could live and someday I would be rewarded when we were together again in heaven. As I write this I sense the childlike manner in which I perceived survival. More importantly I had to find a way to deal with it so that my pain didn't remind the rest of my family of the tragedy, anymore than possible. I felt I should carry the pain for everyone.

Eleven months after we lost Eric, my husband and I divorced. Our marriage could not be saved and to this day I believe we made the most honorable choice for the other two children. I learned a few years back that he never allowed them to mention his name and celebrated Easter with the same tradition as most families. He never spoke of him, the children came to me for the details because they feared angering their father by reminding him of their eldest brother. We had been so deeply in love promising to spend our lives together, we even called Eric - AMOGE - A Miracle Of God's Excellence - while I was carrying him. The magic wasn't my illusion, we all knew the gift we had been given. Easter is a sacred holiday to be honored for everything it symbolizes. Because of my loss I cherish the respect even more.

Learn more about this author, Sharron Moore.
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