😐
Have you ever been NOT excited for the new year?
Not looking forward to a fresh start.
Not anticipating tackling a goal to become a better you.
Not ready to move forward.

Jason has been here every year for the last five decades.
Now I’m facing a sequence of four numbers that won’t have him in them.
2020.
A new year. A new decade.
I can’t help but drag my feet. Look back with longing.
Wanting to hang on to 2019. The last year that Jason was with us.
I don’t want to step into January and leave him behind.

Mormon 8:24 says, “And he knoweth their faith, for in his name could they remove mountains.”

Grief is a mountain.
I’m sure that many of you would agree with this.
Loss. Empty places. Heartache.
It’s a mountain.

Faith can move that mountain.
I totally believe that our mountains can be moved or made easier, or at the very least, become a bearable burden.

But what if grief is not a mountain that I want to remove just yet?
What if I don’t want to move on from it?
What if I don’t want it flattened or conquered or overcome?
What if I just want to feel it?
To feel him.
To keep him with us.

I’ve decided to carry my mountain into 2020.

The tears. The feelings. The thoughts. The sudden waves of loss that take my breath away. The joy of remembering. The tender moments of comfort from angels both on this earth and from a higher place. And the stories. My favorite thing of all. The stories.

I’m inviting Jason to hold my hand and walk into this new year with me.
In whatever way he is allowed.
He would have liked 2020! I’m sure of it!

Jason, I refuse to leave you back in 2019.
You’re coming with me.
I am not leaving you behind.
💙✊🏻