For Christians, especially the 1.4 billion Catholics across the globe, Easter weekend is the epitome of the Circle of Life.

Christ dying on the cross on Good Friday. T.S. Elliott once wrote, “The dripping blood our only drink; The bloody flesh our only food; In spite of which we like to think that we are sound, substantial flesh and blood — Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.”

With that backdrop, two days later, we rejoice His resurrection.  Craig D. Lounsbrough wrote, “Easter is a time when God turned the inevitability of death into the invincibility of life.”

The Circle of Life.  This year, made even more poignant with the passing of Pope Francis just mere hours after Easter Sunday passed.

Life and Death. Light and Darkness. Hope and Despair. All inextricably linked.

For me this past weekend, the bittersweet reality and memories of tragic events four years ago reared its head once again. And was made manifest in the present.

But first, we must flash back four years ago.

On the evening of November 6, 2020, my son Hanford advised me that he and his wife were on the way to the hospital. The same hospital in which both my beloved daughter and loving father breathed their last. But this time it would be different. This time, new life awaited!

At 7:42 a.m. the next morning, I received a Facetime message.  I immediately see the smiling face of my son, Hanford, the exhausted but glowing face of his incredible bride, Rebeca, and … the hope and promise of a better world in Riley Emily Dunn. Born just six (6) minutes before. Tears fill my eyes as I watch the parents so filled with love that they can barely communicate holding the miracle they brought into the world. And for a moment in time, that huge hole that exists within my heart felt a little smaller.

But, that was to be short lived.

Sunday evening, November 8, 2020, about 8:00 p.m., I was told that my older brother, Chuck, an American Airlines pilot, adventurer and the picture of health, was being rushed to a hospital. Whether it was a heart attack, a heart aneurism, or severe stroke, we did not know at the time. 

And so, the very first time I held my granddaughter in my arms, I had to tell my son that my brother’s life was essentially over … that I was flying to Florida the next day to tell the medical professionals to end the procedures keeping his heart pumping.

The seconds of your life tick away. Endlessly. The sands of time pouring through an hourglass. Which may cause one to wonder how many grains of sand are left.

Afterwards, we tried to go back to our daily lives …while we picked up the pieces from the carnage that death had taken. At year’s end, we tried to believe the worst was behind us. We tried. And before 2021 was even one week old, the spectre of Death tried to revisit us, mocking us, grimly laughing at us, taunting us with, “Hold My Beer.”

Almost two months to the day when I got that phone call from my older brother’s now widow, on Tuesday January 5, 2021, I received a call from the wife of my younger brother, James. His wife called to tell me that, “Jim has had a massive heart attack. He’s in the hospital in surgery right now.”

So, yes, my younger brother, almost 2 months to the day my older brother died of a heart condition, had a major heart attack known as “the widowmaker.” I was told he had 100% blockage in one heart ventricle.

But survive he did.

Which brings us to the present.

Once again, my son and his wife were expecting their second child.  A boy. My first grandson. His due date was supposed to be around April 12. The joy! The expectation. Even though they shot down my suggestions for names. I could not understand why they did not think that “Worthington Winthorp” was not a good name.

Now young Logan (the name they chose) was becoming the size of a Mack truck.  So, a C-section was scheduled for April 7. The birth went without a hitch. 9 lb. 12 oz, 21 ½ inches long.  Welcome to the world Logan!

And then once again, the macabre hand of fate intervened.

My younger brother James was scheduled to fly to Croatia to meet his daughter, Avery.  Avery is taking a gap year going on a global adventure. But a day or two before he was supposed to go, on Wednesday, April 16, 2025, James began to feel a stronger fluttering of his heart.  The prior two weeks, he had worn a heart monitor as medical professionals tried to learn more about his health. So, on that Wednesday, he cancelled his trip and set up an appointment with his heart specialist.

On Good Friday, April 18, 2025, he was scheduled to go in to have a stent or balloon inserted to clean out his arteries. But… not so fast my friend. His physical health was far worse than believed.  95% blockage in one artery. 99% in another. Which leads us to … open heart surgery.

Much to his chagrin, the medical professionals would not allow him to leave the hospital. In fact, he was transferred to another hospital so the procedure could be performed.

So, while the Easter Bunny was merrily hop, hop, hopping into our homes, James was in a hospital… waiting. With only time to think.

Open heart surgery, with all of its complications and uncertainties was scheduled for Monday, April 21, 2025.

And so…

As I anxiously awaited the news, I pondered life and death. Light and darkness. Hope and despair. The fates bringing one new, incredible life but at what cost? Would there be the ultimate price to pay? A zero-sum game. Quid pro quo. What cruel joke was this?

In the Game of Thrones series, among the many poignant lines, the following takes place …

So today we tell death … Not today.

The normal 4 hour surgery took only 2 hours. But, it was not his time. Not today. But for another?

Sometimes Death is not to be denied. On that same Monday I was told that the grandmother of Rebeca (my son’s wife), had passed away in her sleep on Easter Sunday. Rebeca’s last grandparent.

So as we remain thankful for life, we remember those who have transitioned to their next stage of existence.

My brother’s recovery will be long and difficult.  But there is life.  The life that flows through my brother and my grandson, Logan. The life that flows through me. The life that flows through all of us.

Life … Light … Hope.

That is a future worth embracing.