The Easter Triduum never felt more real to me than in the month of August 2020. I was crying on my late husband’s hospice bed, begging for the cup to pass. I laid in his dying his arms as if on the cross. I felt the abandonment of close friends. I buried him. I begged for the resurrection that came in bits and pieces. These coming days are so precious to me. I can’t wait to walk with Jesus through his passion, just like he walked with me through mine.