In 2020, just before Easter, my world fell apart.
The pandemic was shutting everything down. Life was chaotic for everyone, but inside my house, it was even more intense. I had just become a single parent of four children ages ranging 5 to 2 months old.
Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays.
There’s something about it that feels like a deep breath after holding it in for too long. The symbolism, the softness of spring, the hope baked into it.
But that year? That season? It was cold.
Not just outside, but in my bones.
I was navigating heartbreak, logistics, and legal papers while trying to hold it together for my kids.
And still… I found a way.
Even in the hardest years, I’ve always done something.
Egg hunts in the living room. Easter baskets left out the night before. Dyeing eggs in pajamas. A quiet little brunch at home.
Even when I didn’t have much, I needed to give my kids something to hold onto.
And truthfully, I needed it too.
Because that’s what Easter is.
It’s a reminder that even in the middle of darkness, something beautiful can break through.
Last year, I had to skip Easter brunch with my family altogether.
We ended up in the ER with Bo instead.
Plans changed. Priorities shifted. And still, Easter came.
Not in the way I expected. Not in the way I wanted.
But it came anyway.
That’s the thing I love most about this holiday.
It’s not just pastels and candy.
Easter is redemption. It’s resurrection. It’s the belief that what’s been broken can rise again.
For caregivers, it means we get to begin again even if yesterday was chaos.
It means hope still shows up even if it’s running a little behind schedule.
It means you can be in the middle of a really hard chapter and still trust that the story isn’t over.
This year, we’ll keep it simple again.
Egg hunts. Baskets. Brunch, hopefully.
But more than anything, I want to soak it in.
Because this Easter, I’m not chasing perfection.
I’m just holding space for peace. For presence. For a little reminder that I’ve made it through a lot and I’m still standing.
If you’re in a hard season, if it still feels like winter, I want to remind you of this:
Spring always comes.
So does joy.
So does healing.
And yes, so does hope.
Happy Easter, from one caregiver to another.
—Mallory