Cathedral incense, poppies wilting on cracked concrete, and a blue nail catching sunlight. April carries the weight of ritual. Below are the real history and cultural threads woven through the month, with what happened and why it shapes the air of these scenes.
15 April 1973 ~ Easter Sunday
What happened: Across Australia, churches marked Easter with incense, procession, and packed pews. Bishops delivered homilies on resurrection and sacrifice. In a Catholic household, the Mass was not optional — it was obligation, rhythm, identity.
Why it matters here: Christian sits in St Michael’s under the weight of Bishop Francis’s voice, hearing survival reframed as resurrection. For Maggie, it is tears and prayer. For him, it is the quiet recognition that wounds matter, and that holiness does not erase pain.
25 April 1973 ~ ANZAC Day
What happened: Australia paused for dawn services and wreaths laid at memorials, remembering Gallipoli and all war dead. At schools, assemblies gathered under flags, the anthem God Save the Queen played solemnly, and plastic poppies bowed in the heat.
Why it matters here: Christian stands in the school courtyard while Mr Kelleher extols pride and sacrifice. The welt on his back pulses, reminding him of what “duty” feels like at home. The anthem rings hollow; the flag curls against the pole. Mary’s shoulder leans toward his, a quiet punctuation in the staged silence.
Pop culture in the air
Sherbet blares from passing cars. A battered copy of RAM magazine lies cracked in the Wagga library. And from a tape machine, Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon repeats its lines: There’s someone in my head but it’s not me.
Why it matters here: For Christian, the music confirms he is not alone in hearing something strange and unshakable. His chipped-blue nail glints as he writes: I’m not wrong. I’m just not finished yet.
Why these headlines deepen the story
April is not victory. It is ritual layered over bruises. Churches speak of resurrection, schools of sacrifice, but the language of survival is quieter, a chipped nail, a folded poem, a whisper in the library. Against the public ceremonies of ANZAC Day and Easter, Christian learns that truth lives in the private refusal to disappear.