Time Turns on Today

If you've been reading these blogs regularly for the last five months, you may recall my musing on the clock change back in October when we "gained" an hour as BST gave way to GMT for the winter months. Now, on Easter Day, we move on- and true to usual form, the fine spring weather of Good Friday and yesterday has given way to a rather dreary, even slightly drizzly Easter afternoon.

Not that the weather in anyway deterred the thousands lining the towpaths and thronging from the pubs alongside Old Father Thames for the 151st meet of the Oxford and Cambridge University boat clubs. ITV1's first coverage of the traditional riperian clash lacked the panache, perhaps, of the BBC coverage they have done so well for years, but it still provided excellent coverage of a thrilling race which I enjoyed watching along with my brother, who has stayed here in Feltham today but has spent some time down in Sussex for the weekend.

Enjoying normal things and the events of Eastertide have proved to be both helpful but poignant this year. In this posting, sad to tell but not unexpectedly given recent events, I have to report that my beloved Mum died at about 2.00 a.m GMT on Easter Saturday morning. Neither my brother or I were actually there at the time, and instead it fell to that modern instrument of both good news and bad news, the telephone, to alert us to it. Matt and I had been with Mum for much of Good Friday, and I did wonder whether or not I should have stopped through the night. However, as it happens, would it have helped? I think not. We had after all spent much of the last twelve days with Mum and I think she would have wanted to spare us the pain of witnessing that final moment of passing in some ways- I could have been asleep anyway if I'd stayed.

So what did I feel then, and what do I feel now? This is where it comes back to the weather, and how yesterday was strangely easier to bear than the days before. It's certainly true what they say in situations like this that the end comes as a release, as much for the one mourned as those doing the mourning. Just sitting alongside an inert Mum, not able to communicate directly with us, nor eat drink or move, had been agonising, as had been those previous "false alarms" when we were told to expect the worst. Of course the loss is as grievous as ever, but maybe in some ways I have done some of my grieving already, indeed have been doing so ever since the terminal diagnosis was first made.

Yet today, of all days, is my ground for hope and should be for all people but especially those who believe that the Biblical accounts of Easter are true. The whole future of humanity does indeed turn on what happened on that first Easter Day. Contrary to Nietzche's nihilist philosophy and the oh so hopeless views of so many, God is not dead- indeed, he is very much alive and Easter Day proves that he wants us to live with him for eternity. Oh, we will probably have to taste the pains of death first, from both sides- the pain of parting for those that remain, chiefly, but Jesus rising again, in a physical body which it understandably took his followers some time to recognise, is our hope that death is not the end. All those who have loved and lost have hope of being reunited with their dear ones- though death could never end the love of a mother or for a mother anyway.

For my part, my sense of loss is for all that has gone and been enjoyed over the years, that can never now be experienced in quite the same way. I felt a mild sorrow as I watched the Boat Race, remembering the many times I've watched it on telly with Mum over the years. I had an inner sigh as I reflected that my 45th birthday last June, which happened to occur on a Sunday, turned out to be the last one I will have spent with my Mum- which makes it all the more precious for that. At the time, funnily enough, I had been thinking back to my 40th, and how quickly those five years had gone. I had celebrated the big 40 with a mega party at the Civil Service Sports club in Chiswick, very close to the big event on the Thames today. Maybe I even held on to the hope that I would also celebrate my fiftieth with my whole family, but it is not to be.

So, we mourn but we also move on. Despite the weather, Spring has most definitely arrived. The time between now and Mum's funeral will probably seem like an eternity, and even then there will be lots of practicalities to sort out with probate- not nearly so easy as it was with Dad, since most of his funds were in joint names. These are all the unwelcome legacies that a loss leaves, but there is also the chance for closure, with affectionate remembrance of all that has gone but new opportunities.

Who knows what I will have to report come the end of October when the clocks once again revert to good old GMT? Only God knows. The Resurrection is our greatest proof that God is the greatest dispenser of surprises the World will ever know. They might not always be the kind of surprises we want, but he always provides hope, comfort and joy to mitigate the sorrows and the suffering of this life.
If you are reading this, and are unconvinced, don't worry- you are not alone. So was the famous "doubting" Thomas, who apparently only acquired his epithet in about the fifteenth century. To have doubts about the truth of Christ's resurrection is a perfectly understandable and rational reaction. But the very inclusion of Thomas's story in the gospel accounts shows that God understands our weaknesses and our lack of belief, but loves us still.
Today then, maybe you might like to read the full story of Easter, perhaps for the first time; if you don't have a bible, there are plenty of on-line resources which will have the relevant passages for you. If you read of the resurrection- all the accounts give slightly different details but share a common core- and want to accept it with all your heart, you don't need to change your name to Thomas, or to Mary, or even to Peter, the disciple who disowned Jesus three times on that awful eve of crucifixion. Peter became a great servant of the early church, faithful follower of the risen Lord and the first occupant of the papal chair in Rome which John Paul II is hanging on to by a divine thread at the moment. You don't need complex words, formulas or even to step across a church doorway to know the joy of the first Easter today: just say, like Thomas "Lord, I believe: help my unbelief".