About Us

Our family of 6 (dad Adam, mom Sherry, big sister Abby and little brothers Isaac and Brady -- who was born on December 14, 2010) joined the ranks of pediatric cancer fighters when our 4-year old son Logan was diagnosed with a dangerous and highly malignant form of brain cancer in mid-August 2010. Logan's cancer journey began abruptly on Sunday, August 15, when his right eye suddenly turned inward during dinner. Twenty-four hours later, we were checking into Children's Hospital Oakland and finding out that life sometimes takes you places you'd never, ever imagine yourself going.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

It's Just Me.

It's a funny thing. I'm drawn to this blog. I want to write. But I have no idea what to say. My life isn't what it once was. In fact, I spend most of my time trying to figure out what, precisely, the word 'normal' now means to me. And that's okay. It's just the way things are for me and for my family as a unit.

Right now, we're absorbed with planning and preparing for Logan's celebration of life, which is good busy work. But it doesn't really help, per se. My brain still hasn't fully wrapped itself around the concept that he's not here with us anymore in a physical sense; that I can't just go to his room and hug him whenever I want. I can't say that I'm okay with it because I'm not. I never will be, at least not in this life. But I know that I have to live with it, and so I will. But it's hard. No, that's not a strong enough word. There isn't a word that's strong enough.

I think one of the hardest things about grief, for me, is feeling blindsided by silly things; things that wouldn't usually bother me. Unexpected pregnancy announcements. Vacation plans that I wish were my own. Old photos and videos I'd forgotten about. Adam dropped a bag full of old mini dv tapes at Costco to have them transferred to DVD last week. They sent him an email after the first tape had been converted, and an icy wave of shock washed over me when I saw the contents: Logan's first day of life. The minutes after his birth. I counted his tiny toes. Stared at his perfect baby feet. Admired the way his eyelashes rested against his fresh little cheeks. Longed to have him back again. And then remembered that it couldn't happen. And it was an utterly infuriating realization.

But like I said, I'm dealing. I haven't stopped living my life. I can't. I have other kids to care for. I have a house to manage. To be cliche, I have places to go and people to see. And it's possible that my strongest motivator right now is the knowledge that Logan would want me to keep living if he were here. He wouldn't want to be the cause of me checking out of my life.

So yes, just a few more days until we celebrate my Sunshine. Just a few more days until the Cars bouncy house goes up in the church lawn and we eat pizza and chocolate cake and remember who he was --and still is. I've had a lot of folks look at me quizzically when I tell them that kids are welcome, and in a way, I feel like I need to explain our rationale, even if it's simple to us. Logan was a child. His friends were children. So it stands to reason that if we're having a party in his honor, his friends should be included. I know it's an awkward and difficult subject for many parents to tackle, but it's our reality. We stared it down for 18 months. I, of course, respect others' decisions. But I want you all to understand mine, too.

Anyway, I guess this isn't the most eloquent entry I've ever made. It's here and there and everywhere. But that's okay. Because it's where I am. For now.


  1. Sherry, two words come to mind when I read this, Peace and Strength. Peace that Logan is in a better place and whole and healthy and that he is with you even if just in Spirit, he'll always be with you. It might sound drab, but he's never really left you, he's in your heart for all eternity! And Strength of character!

    Long Distance hugs!

  2. Sherry I think that this was one of my favorite entries. I wish that I was there to hug you and to be there to help celebrate Logan's life. I just know that he is looking down on you and smiling for all the hard work that you are putting into this just for him. I am sending you strength, happiness and love from a thousand miles away.

  3. Many hugs to you.

    And having kids at his celebration of life is exactly what needs to happen. It's normal. Of course Logan's friends need to be there. They need this service too.

  4. ::hugs:: love you. and love that you're still sharing.

  5. I wish I could be there too! Of course kids should be included! You can't deny life and death to kids. They know. They feel too. Jacob never even met Logan but he still has questions and it's my job to explain. I wish you moments of peace and strength, and many hugs and friends to share time with you.

  6. We are excited to be there to celebrate Logan's life with you, and all of the people Logan touched.
    Derek keeps calling it "Logan's Party" ... and we talk about how Logan IS having a party up with Jesus and that he wants us to be happy that he is there now and not sick anymore.
    Hugs and love to you.

  7. I know you hurt deeply; your strength and determination to keep moving forward is inspiring. Two kids and I will be there to celebrate Logan on Saturday! We wouldn't want to miss it!

  8. I came here to get your email address to send you an email, but this will work as well. Please know that I am thinking about you, Adam and the kids and of course, Logan today.

    Can I say that I think the way you are honoring Logan sounds so perfect?

    Hugs to you, Sherry.

    Kris from LJ