Celebrating Life—and Death—on Easter
Facing the news of death in a season of new life helped me appreciate Christ’s role as our Redeemer even more.
My cousin’s post was the first notification on my phone when I woke up that morning:
“Easter. Resurrection. Hope. Renewal. Rest in peace, Nelly. You picked the perfect day to leave this mortal existence.”
It was Easter Sunday, and my aunt had died. My eccentric, loud, hilarious, loving Aunt Nelly.
I hadn’t grown up knowing her very well. My mom would often show me a photo of myself as a baby playing with the cats at Aunt Nelly’s house when we went to visit her a few states away.
Maybe that’s where my love of cats came from?
But not long after I started college, I followed a prompting that led me to go live with Aunt Nelly and her husband, Uncle Rod, in Washington for a few months.
Their house was just like Nelly herself—colorful, eclectic, and filled with the most interesting things you could imagine. I loved being able to develop a relationship with her (despite her collection of creepy dolls staring at me all night in the guest room). She was caring and fun and knew about literally every good thrift store within driving distance. Her Dutch accent, flamboyant personality, and welcoming demeanor drew me in and made my stay so entertaining.
So although the news of her death on that Easter morning wasn’t totally unexpected (she had been sick with cancer), I still lay in bed and shed some tears. She just wasn’t the kind of person who didn’t make an impression, and it was hard to accept that her unique spirit wasn’t on earth anymore.
The news of my aunt’s passing wasn’t the only thing on my mind that morning, though. Minutes later, I was standing in the bathroom of our tiny house, crying tears of joy with my husband for a completely different reason: I was pregnant.
If death was hard to wrap my mind around, the thought of new life growing inside me was even more unfathomable.
It was Easter Sunday, and I was expecting our first child (which ended up being twins, but we wouldn’t get that news for a few more months)—an Easter unlike any other for me. My mind went back and forth between thoughts of death and life. Temporary endings and eternal beginnings. It seemed like the circle of life was unfolding before my own eyes, and I couldn’t help but think of Christ’s role in it.
As the center of our Father’s plan of salvation, Jesus Christ is the one who makes eternal life possible. His own birth on earth brought such hope to the world; His death and Resurrection bring us hope still today. His Resurrection means that life is eternal. That families can be together forever.
What an amazing, hopeful reminder for my aunt to pass away on Easter, the very day that we celebrate Christ’s victory over death.
I love how Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin (1917–2008) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles described the Resurrection:
“When Christ rose from the grave, becoming the firstfruits of the Resurrection, He made that gift available to all. And with that sublime act, He softened the devastating, consuming sorrow that gnaws at the souls of those who have lost precious loved ones. …
“… He ascended from the grave and appeared gloriously triumphant as the Savior of all mankind … the proof that death is merely the beginning of a new and wondrous existence.”1
I’ve never been so grateful for the knowledge the gospel gives us that allows us to celebrate both life and death. Because death is not the end. Because “there is a resurrection, therefore the grave hath no victory, and the sting of death is swallowed up in Christ. He is the light and the life of the world; yea, a light that is endless, that can never be darkened; yea, and also a life which is endless, that there can be no more death” (Mosiah 16:8–9).
So not only is the sting of death taken away, but the joy of new life is magnified. Because Christ is “come that [we] might have life, and that [we] might have it more abundantly” (John 10:10).
Because of Jesus Christ, we will all rise again. We can be with our loved ones forever. Not only can I be with my sweet children forever, but I will also see loved ones whom I’ve lost—including Aunt Nelly. And because of that, today and every day, in the face of both life and death, we can all continue living and “rejoicing in hope” (Romans 12:12).
I’ll always be grateful for my cousin’s lovely reminder that morning of all that Easter means to us: Resurrection. Hope. Renewal. Peace.