And as overwhelming as that is at times, it's so good and so sweet. It's a reminder that I'm still living and I'm still here and I'm still fighting and God is still good.
I read an article the other day on something called The Semicolon Project. It's a non-profit that's dedicated to bringing awareness to mental health and the importance of it that awareness. "A semicolon represents a sentence the author could have ended, but chose not to."
I think I've just been afraid all of these years; afraid that the end of his life would be the end of his story. But I'm realizing more every day that he lives on. In the ones who choose to love him still, and in the ones I choose to tell about him. His tiny little self is leaving footprints that I may not even recognize.
But the pain is often so real.
His death was not a period, though. It is not the end. Just like my struggles are not periods at the end of a sentence. Instead, they are a movement; a calling to believe better things and to live bigger dreams and to love so much deeper.
And I choose to to believe and to live and to love because those things are worthy of my time and my offering. My calling is bigger than my fear. My joy is bigger than my despair. And this life is bigger than my wildest imagination.
Will you join me on the path that matters?
In loving memory of Kaden Michael Peterson.