An Easter Sunday Reflection

When I heard Andrea Bocelli would be live streaming from the Duomo in Milan on Easter Sunday, I was delighted. I marked it on my calendar, thinking what a wonderful way to connect with others around the planet during this devastating pandemic.

“Haha, I’m even going to make ravioli to keep the Italian theme going,” I’d said, trying to make the best of this weird holiday in isolation.

When the live stream commenced, I felt immediately warm and connected. Images of the spires on the roof of the Duomo brought back memories of me walking among them on a searing hot day in 2009. It was a splendid day when I squeezed myself into the last tour of the Santa Maria delle Grazie to see Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper.

As the cameras swept through the empty Duomo and 2.7 million of us awaited Bocelli, I braced myself. Somewhere between the simple act of marking this on my calendar and the actual moments leading up to it, something had shifted in me. I instinctively knew I was about to give myself permission to feel.

I’ve been doing a Friday Zoom session each week since we began sheltering in place due to the coronavirus. It involves sending out a writing prompt beforehand to those interested. They write, then they bring it to the session and share with others.