The Portal: Portal-ity Thoughts

I am a lover of paper.  Of words.  Of journals.  I have so many journals . . .all colors and sizes, and it's been my modus operandi to write for a few days and then stop.  I think as much as I like to document my thoughts and feelings, what would always happen is, I would end up just blathering on about my feelings, venting, or writing about trivial things when I thought the words should be rich and deep. Well, let me encourage you to write, write anything and everything because one day those words will be important.  So important.   I found a journal that I bought in early 2017, with a gift card to Barnes and Noble.  It seemed a bit extravagant, it has a buttery soft leather cover, it's covered in words,  and has thick quality paper. It reminds me of something old and worldly. I didn't want to ruin it by writing once or twice and leaving it in the pile, so I decided to fill it with things I learned, quotes I liked, prayers and responses.   I've said b

John has been gone a year.  367 days without seeing our son.  It's been a hard Fall.  Full of memories, and of loss.  I'm crabby and irritable.  All I want to to do is stay home.  It was a rough weekend, and I'm sure it won't be the last.  Every month, as a bereaved parent, is another awful milestone, that leads to the dreaded one year mark.  Hi, welcome to the twelfth month.  Please relive the horror of that day over and over and over again in your mind.  We'll wait over here. I woke up at 6:30. On the dot.  6:30 was the time John's alarm was set to go off.  When he didn't shut it off, and the puppy was barking, we knew something was wrong.  <Enter life stopping devastation.> So let's recap this year.  For all you glass half full types . . . what good came out of it?  Um, nothing. Nothing good resulted from my son's death.  Sorry to disappoint.  Oh, and guess what, LIFE DIDN'T GO ON.  There was no silver lining in this dreadful clou