It seems like some of the most significant events in my life have occurred on holidays (not vacation holidays, for my British/Australian readers 😉). Perhaps that’s why I don’t have a strong attachment to or over-the-top celebration of holidays other than Christmas: they all have a different meaning to me.
Take my first child as an example. He was conceived on St. Patrick’s Day, I found out I was pregnant on Easter, and he was born on Thanksgiving day.
My third child was also conceived somewhere around St. Patrick’s Day (beware the Ides of March, indeed!) and several years his birthday falls on Thanksgiving, as his birthday is only five days apart from my oldest.
Then the biggest date of all: my husband was actually admitted to the hospital and told he had cancer on Easter this year.
I ponder that a lot sometimes. I’ve struggled a lot with religion and tend to think that my definition of God is more universal than the Christian God. But at the same time, I wonder if there’s significance that he was first diagnosed on Easter.
I can’t seem to decide what that means, or even if it means anything at all. Does it mean that my husband will rise again like Jesus was said to on Easter? Was it just that his new life with cancer was a resurrection of sorts? More morbidly, does it foretell his death?
At the very least, it’s a weird coincidence. But I seem to have an awful lot of weird coincidences of significant events occurring on holidays.