The Portal: Portal-ity Thoughts

Today's blog is brought to you by our daughter, Kaitlin. She wrote it at 2 a.m. Y ou might want to grab a tissue. Ever wonder what it’s like being  in a dead kid’s house? I do.  It’s empty.  There’s an empty seat at the table.  There’s an unused bedroom.  There’s an empty spot on the couch.  There are uneaten snacks in the cupboards.  There’s less laundry to do.  Everywhere you look, something has been affected by the dead kid’s absence.  Usually, there are lots of pictures of the dead kid. Reminders of the memories that were made. The sad thing is that during those times, you have no idea you’re making “memories.” You simply feel that you’re living your daily life in an ordinary way. Then one day, the kid dies and you realize that those ordinary days become some of the most precious times you can hold on to.  You frantically search for videos so you can remember the dead kid’s voice because...

Mother's Day.  The day all of us moms look forward to with anticipation. Or at least used to. The day our kids call to say "Hey, thanks, Mom! Thanks for bringing me into the world, for loving me, taking care of me, for being that unconditional support system that every child needs." There is something special about your mom. Dads are awesome too, of course, but let's face it.  Your mom is your mom. My husband watches a lot of war documentaries and one thing they say over and over again is how common it would be to hear the men, in their pain or at the end of their lives, calling out for their mothers.  My mom was the bomb. She was hilarious and kind.  She didn't offer a bunch of unnecessary advice.  She never made us feel like we weren't enough or that we didn't measure up.  She just loved us for who we were and she enjoyed us. She raised us up and let us fly.  She always took our phone calls, and she listened.  She listened for as long a...

Today is just one of the many hard days.  I think the ratio of good days vs. bad days should be changing anytime now, and then I tell myself the truth.  This is forever, and I'm pretty sure at day 167, that this isn't going to get any easier.  In fact, I think it may be getting harder as the days pass and I can't see John.  I miss him.  Did you know there was an app for keeping track of days? Yep.  It's on my phone.  I like to know how many days/months it has been.  How sad is that that someone designed an app to track the days in between?  I'm sure they meant it for special countdowns - happy countdowns, but still. I should anticipate these bad days when I'm at home all day.  These days are bound to pop up. After all, last night was a precursor, as I had to finalize the verbiage on John's headstone (unless I change my mind . . .again).   I also woke up today to another article in the local newspaper.  At least ...

Today was a pretty good day.  We posted the online store to purchase memorial clothing in honor of John!  (Thanks, Terrin & Rambow!) It was exciting to see the design and all the choices.  I can't wait to get the items that I ordered - I think John would really like this idea.  We are so happy to be donating the proceeds to the Dan Baker Foundation so they can continue to help others in similar situations to ours.  Dave and Mary Baker have been a Godsend to us. The minute they heard about John's death they reached out to us and have been there ever since. Their kids, Oliva and Alex, reached out to Kate as well, they are just so incredibly kind.  It means so much to us to have another set of parents who have walked this road, to help us understand what it looks like and feels like.  They help us realize we aren't crazy.  Mary's heart is so wrapped up in this loss of ours.  It's hard for her, yet there she is, despite her tears, st...

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. ...

To be honest, once I publish a blog, I very rarely go back and reread it. I'm sure much of what I say is redundant. But as long as it's in my mind, it's just going to keep coming out in my words.  Today I went back, very briefly, and looked at a few of the posts.  Has God been preparing me all along for this devastating loss of a child? Of course he has.  I posted, in one blog, that in the middle of the night, during one of my wide-awake times, where I would panic and worry about John, God clearly dropped this thought into my mind . . ."Do you trust me?"  I cried like a baby. I did trust Him and I still do.  More than ever. I had been bringing John to the Lord constantly. Asking for his healing from addiction, from the recurring thoughts and memories, from the feelings of guilt and self-loathing. We prayed and we prayed that he would be healed.  And he was. Was it the way we wanted?  No.  It was the way God wanted.  Would our way have ...

  Sunset on Seven Mile Beach, Grand Cayman My brother-in-law, Chris, sells Beck's Seed. It's new to Minnesota. This made it possible for Brian and I, as his customers, to take a trip to Grand Cayman.  We had scheduled this trip before our son John passed away,  and had originally worked the dates out so we could celebrate John's birthday here in Minnesota, and then leave for Grand Cayman to celebrate our 29th wedding anniversary.  More firsts.  Brian and I hadn't taken a vacation without our kids for years.  When John passed away on 11.4.17, we weren't sure we wanted to go, to be quite honest,  but we agreed we could use a week of sunshine and anonymity. We had heard from Chris, repeatedly, what an amazing company Becks is. How down to earth and faith-based their organization is. We had no idea.  Obviously, since we lost John, we've been feeling a bit reclusive, vulnerable and sad. It's hard to be around the people we do know, let al...