Soup Sandwich Sunday

Dad and Uncle Bob

Easter weekend always brings a soup sandwich full of emotions for me. Its messy and awkward and probably somewhat beautiful.

My Dad died on  Good Friday eight years ago.

What a weird day to die? A loving friend said to me, not long after. She was right. There are almost always two days to mourn his passing each year. The date (April 6th) and the Friday. I find the Friday the one that pulls most at my heart strings. Its hard to articulate. As a christian the symbolism of that means even more to me now that my dad is gone. I understand in a more poignant way the earth shattering grief of Good Friday and the beautiful promise of Easter Sunday.



Elder Joseph B Wirthlin said it better than anyone in his talk Sunday Will Come:

Each of us will have our own Fridays—those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. We all will experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again. We will all have our Fridays.

But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death—Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, Sunday will come.

No matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come. In this life or the next, Sunday will come.

I have had some years to grieve and mourn and understand . Good Friday will always bring tears and Easter Sunday brings tearful and  joyful gratitude. I know because of the death of my Saviour on the first Good Friday I will surely see my Dad again.


 Be patient with yourself. Our Heavenly Father gives us time to mourn and time to be joyful because Sunday will come. Happy Easter!