Saturday, April 11 of 2009 my son and I are chillin, watching one of ‘our’ shows and he asks: “Mom, is the Easter Bunny real? Tell me the truth.” (Me:*Gasp!*, *where is the air in this room!*, *The TRUTH??!*) After I learn to breathe again and stop the tear in my eye, I look at him, his face so beautiful, so open and honest, so ready. But I’m not-you are only 9-I’m not. I look again, he is. I still doubt so I ask if he really wants the truth and of course yes, he does-the TRUTH, he has only said ‘tell me the truth’ about five times now in his ‘serious’ voice. Third grade recess talk means this conversation has already happened. He is ready, so I tell him. The. Truth: No sweet prince, the Easter bunny is a fabrication of marketing to get folks to spend money. (Me: *that was too harsh, when will you learn to buffer ?*) But that is not enough of the truth he wants the who and why? It’s us, Dad and I, we do it for the giving, because we love you and it’s fun.
This all sinks in and the reality is now his as well. He tears up, he wanted to believe the myth. He wanted the dream of a fluffy bunny hopping in to give something special along with some chocolate. Me too, even now at 39, I want the dream. I want them all. But truth is good, necessary, wonderful even if it is sometimes painful, hard and long. The sadness is sinking in for him now, but the trick is don’t hold on to it. Let it enter, feel it, then let it go. The sadness is not the point, not the purpose. It is only a tool for our us.
Now he knows, and I hope he finds the new magic in the truth and join in the giving. Because that is what holidays are about: the giving. Will he still receive an Easter Basket full of goodies now? Yes. For as long as he lets me, yes. I will fill his basket with all the love I can give because he is worth it, forever!
I don’t blame you one bit my Love, not one iota as my tears joined yours on that evening. Often the first truths are the most difficult.
Sweet Child, I love you with all my heart and more. The depth of love I have for you can only come from God above, because it is not human how much I love you. You bless me to have you in my life. I thank God often for the opportunity to be your mom.
You are the most special boy I have ever met. You amaze me daily and you are seeking the truth now. It is wonderful! Yet can you wait, just for a bit? I may not be ready to tell you all the truths this world holds. Not yet. To me you are so young, so innocent, so precious. Yet you are growing. You are asking, which means you are ready. Ask away, my Joy, I will answer. Your wings are unfolding and I know they will be dry soon, then you will fly! This is my hope that you fly on! Only let me fill your Easter Basket for just awhile more.