A reluctant step…

I didn’t know this day would hit me so hard, but it has. Michael is at work, the girls have gone home, and I’m looking at the Christmas tree, the nativity set, the carolers, and I know they have to go too…and…

I’m a wreck. Crying and ranting, and raving. And most of all reluctant.

There is something about losing someone, especially a young person that makes you look at the bigger picture. Often.

So I sit here, clinging to that last page in the calendar. I don’t want to let any of it go, not the decorations, not the laughter the girls brought with them while they were here, not the holiday season, not 2015.

Certainly, there wasn’t anything about 2015 that made it my best year ever I think as I walk myself through the disappointments I faced this year. They were mostly professional and I can live with that.

I think of friends who faced real hardships; lost loved ones, serious illness, cheating spouses and unwanted divorce. And I can’t do anything about their pain. My thoughts, my prayers, my love are all I have to offer. Tears flow again. I wipe them to clear my eyes so I can focus on the bright spots, joyous moments that lit up the place and made the year overall seem better than most. I’ve spent the last couple of days writing down goals. 2016 is a blank canvas and I have a lot of hope…after all, it could be my best year yet…


Walking out of 2015 means we walk further away from 2014, the last year that Ryan was here with us. Tears cloud my eyes again.

And so I’ll say it again, I’m reluctant to move from 2015 to 2016.

One of my goals for 2016 is to try to live more like Ryan did.

You see, Ryan had an amazing ability to live in the moment, knowing real joy was found in the simple things in life like: coffee (or should I say sugar water with cream) in the morning, making music with friends, and time spent walking in nature.

I’ve wondered how, at such a young age, he understood so fully what life is all about.

Then my phone buzzed with this text from his dad: “Hey Honey, look outside, it’s snowing.”

He knows I’ve wanted snow all holiday season. So he took time out of his day to be sure I would see it.

Like his son did, Michael lives in the moment, enjoying the simple things, like a few snowflakes on New Year’s Eve….

So I filled my coffee mug (no sugar for me, thank you) and found myself smiling as I watched the tiny flakes blow in…we may be saying good-bye to 2015, but Ryan will always be with us.

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