Ryland Anthony Sollami

My name is Ryland Anthony Sollami. I came into this world quietly, and I left it in peace on July 2, 2025, with the person who loved me most lying beside me, my mother, Kathleen (Sollami) Bidner of Carterville. I did not move through the world like most do. My legs never carried me, my voice never filled a room, and my eyes never saw with clarity. But I saw. I felt. I was. I lived not in motion, but in essence. And in that stillness, I became a witness to love in its purest form. The doctors had names for my limitations, but I did not carry them like weights. My mind may have been shaped differently, but my spirit remained untouched- whole, aware, awake in its own way. I knew pain, yes, the kind the body holds, but I was spared the storms that plague the hearts of so many: anger, jealousy, regret, hatred. Those were strangers to me. I knew only the constancy of presence, the sacred rhythm of care, the warmth of connection. I did not need words to say, "I'm here", I simply was. And I was not alone. My mother was my anchor, her hands were my hands, her heart beat for mine. She moved mountains, not for the world to see, but for me to live. I was never sidelined; I was always included. I was her sidekick and her companion. From ages three to twenty-two, I sat in classrooms and listened to the world unfold around me. I graduated in May 2022 from Herrin High School, not because I passed tests, but because I showed up- because presence, in its truest form, is power. The world measures worth in achievement. I measured mine in connection. And I was rich. I saw 27 states, flew above the clouds, rocked on boats, rumbled on trains. I felt the hum of adventure through the body that carried me, even if it didn't obey me. My journey was not bound by ability but expanded by inclusion. I was surrounded by love, always. From grandparents, aunts, and uncles to cousins, siblings and school staff. And above all, by a mother who gave me not just care, but dignity. In a world obsessed with productivity and perfection, I was a reminder that being is enough. And to my brother, Hudson Bidner, and my sister, Ella Bidner (both of Carterville) you were my world. I couldn't run beside you, or call your name, but I felt you in every room we shared. You were the music in my silence, the movement in my stillness. I listened to your laughter, and though I couldn't join in the way others could, I was with you, always. You made space for me without needing words. You included me, looked out for me, loved me in all the ways that mattered. And in return, I held you in the quiet corners of my heart, watching you become more kind, more patient, more aware of the sacred things this world so often forgets. Know this: I felt it all. You helped shape the soul I am, and now, wherever you go, I am with you still. Not behind, not ahead but beside you, always. Everyone who crossed my path walked away changed. Without speaking a word, I taught patience, compassion, presence, and reverence for life in all its forms. I opened hearts and softened sharp edges. I brought people closer to the essence of themselves. My life, though quiet, echoed in every soul I met. Now, I am beyond all bounds. But I leave behind more than a memory. I leave a lesson: That the truest lives are not always loud, or long, or grand in the way the world defines them, but quietly luminous. I was one of those lives. Not easy, not explained. Just full. Just felt. I remain, in every heart I touched, not with words, but with presence.
Arrangements have been entrusted to Wilson-McReynolds Funeral Home, 900 North Court Street, Marion, IL.
The visitation will be Saturday, July 12, 2025 from 12:00 p.m. until 2:00 p.m.
Following the time of visitation, the memorial service will be at the funeral home at 2:00 p.m.
To leave an online condolence for the family, please visit our website at wilsonmcreynolds.com or for additional information call the funeral home at 618-993-2131.