The Portal: Portal-ity Thoughts

Four months ago, on Saturday, November 4th, 2017, we woke up to find our beautiful 24-year-old son, John Ryan, lifeless in his bed from an opioid overdose.  He looked peaceful lying there, but not exactly like himself.  What made him who he was, the essence of him, was no longer there.  His body, the vessel that housed his spirit and his soul, was carefully preserved and laid to rest in a beautiful container, for that day when the Lord's timeline is fulfilled. On that day,  John's body will be raised from the dead, glorified, and reunited with his soul. A soul that did not die.  You'll notice that I said John's body will be raised . . . not his "person".   John did not spend a moment not being himself.  He left that body and his soul stepped into eternal life. He is fully himself in Heaven, without the worldly baggage that was dragging him down while here on Earth.   The one thing you get to take with you from this life is your soul. ...

I'm not feeling it.  Today has been such an incredibly hard day. I wasn't expecting that.  I was spending time with my gorgeous new grandbaby, and the thought of a new year all of the sudden completely blindsided me. Why?  Because I felt that I was leaving John behind in 2017.  Maybe that makes no sense to anyone else, or maybe it makes perfect sense. I would imagine anyone who lost a child around the holidays can certainly relate. I think a poor night's sleep got the ball rolling, but roll it did.  I couldn't stop crying. Couldn't get myself together.  I had to go home. What a terrible feeling that is.   Ringing in the New Year should be a time of joy and celebration. However, for me, today, the tears won't stop. The year 2017, for us, will always be the year John died.  The year he left us.  The year that changed our lives forever. The year the sadness came to visit and refused to leave.  I don't want to move out of 2017. ...

Grief.  That's a fun topic to share on, right?  As usual, I will warn you, you brought yourself here, and reading is optional:)  You are going to get tired of me, I know I am.  Do what you need to do to keep your day sunny and bright.  If that means dumping me on Facebook or steering clear of my thoughts or my person, please do.  I give you my permission.  Someone accused me of being addicted to social media, and writing for "likes." She also compared the death of my son to that of Jesus, and asked if I thought a present-day Mary would have "felt a focus to followers on Facebook or to pings on a blog." (Pings?)  As if I orchestrated this pain to get more likes?  She suggested I get off social media, but instead, she unfriended me.  So, problem solved.  The lesson here, not everyone should try to speak into the life of others, and certainly not without your permission. Furthermore, if it's hurtful to you in your current state, ...