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Good Friday

When I was growing up, we had a family tradition for Good Friday. My Dad would get up and cycle to the bakery in the village and come back with a dozen hot cross buns, still warm from the oven. In his last few years the bicycle gave way to a mobility scooter but still the same warm , tasty buns.

 

The last time he can have done this was in 1989, because Good Friday 1990 he was in hospital, just days from the end of his life. This year, Easter lands just one day different from 1990, so there is a special poignancy about keeping the tradition alive.

On the Wednesday after Easter, around midday, my Dad died..so that, rather than the date, is when I tend to remember. This year, his anniversary of death lands on Tuesday, so a kind of double remembering.

I know quite a few people for whom Easter brings memories of those they have loved and"lost" so my thoughts and prayers are with them today.

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