The chocolate rabbit is long gone. The sugar-crusted Peeps will soon be finished along with the foil-covered eggs. Only the jelly beans will last longer than the week because, well, they’re jelly beans.

The Easter grass is finally vacuumed up. Hopefully. A strand or two might turn up later in some remote corner of the house where one of the kids dropped it when she or he pulled another treat from a basket and the strand came with it.

Only one colored egg remains missing despite repeated journeys into the backyard to find it. Experience says when it does turn up sometime in the future it will be carefully picked up, transported to the trash can, and gently laid inside. Or, it might languish wherever it is for months. We never know.

The egg salad sandwiches will continue for a few more days until we either eat them all or throw them out.

But unlike other holidays, say St. Patrick’s Day or Valentine’s Day, Easter doesn’t disappear as quickly once the day is passed. Easter is more substantive, more lasting because it’s a celebration that fills our minds with deeper thoughts and meaning, far beyond shamrocks and hearts.

Easter is a quieter, calmer version of Christmas, the holiday that celebrates the beginning of the life of the historic figure for which it was created. In this “Easter aftermath,” the stories of the end of his life, whether believed or not, are often enough to inspire some kind of change in many of us.

A friend confided that in years gone by she focused on how to make increasingly clever Easter decorations and baskets for her kids. But this year she felt compelled to try something different. For a few minutes after dinner each evening she talked with her young family about the final week of his life, and what happened on each day. To her surprise, her kids were beyond interested. Their questions revealed a deeper-seated desire to know more than she thought they would. “I feel bad I underestimated them. Our discussions about him are ongoing,” she said. Her Easter aftermath will be one of continued learning for her and her family.

Another friend shared that this year — a year of discouragement and depression she’d never before experienced — the Easter season inspired her to start reading the Bible. She began with a plan to read a chapter a day. But soon her reading took her beyond that because the things she read were more than just stories. “I couldn’t get enough of it,” she said. She added, “When I read, I feel peace I haven’t felt in months. Maybe years.” She’s still reading. Her Easter aftermath could possibly be lifesaving.

Need is the mother of invention. In this time of increased turmoil, confusion, and uncertainty we search for something to fulfill our human need for assurance, comfort, sanity, and goodness. The story of his singular life and mission yields all of that to believers and nonbelievers alike.

Easter is a natural finisher of what begins in the Christmas season. Amidst the mutual distractions of a Santa Claus and an Easter Bunny, gifts in baskets and under trees, and programs and pageants, we also find meaningful practices. We cherish traditional meals, family gatherings, and personal meditation because they unite us, enlarge us, and inspire us to be kinder to those around us. And to ourselves.

In my own Easter aftermath, I did not put back into my tote a small cardboard diorama I have of Christ talking to Mary outside an empty tomb. Instead, it now sits on a kitchen shelf. In its simplicity, it gently reminds me to reach a bit more to be a bit more than I am.

Peace and goodwill shouldn’t be relegated to just one month per year. Easter is the other season that propels it a little further into our lives where we can hope it will last a little while longer.

At least longer than the jelly beans.