Mother's Day was, as I'd assumed it would be, hard. It's always difficult to wake up sad and then fight negative emotions all day long. But that's pretty much what I did. And I got through it. I'm hoping that one day, I won't just get through those special days. I'm hoping that I'll find joy in them again. But I don't know when that'll happen. I don't know if it will ever happen. That's one of my biggest fears.
Other than that, I've been in an extended 'crap' mood. I guess that's pretty blunt, but it's the truth. Tired, betrayed, forgotten. It stinks, but I've discovered a painful truth: people forget about you around the 3-month marker. I could stop and apologize to everyone who's stayed present, but the underlying truth still remains: I feel forgotten. I feel like Logan's been forgotten.
It's not that I expect the world to slow down because I lost my son. Okay, well, maybe I do. But I know that's not a realistic desire. No one else will care about what happened to Logan like my family does. It won't ever mean as much to anyone else. Everyone else on the planet will do what they do when something tragic happens to someone else: send a note of condolence (or say nothing at all, which, if I may repeat of the upteenth time, I precisely the wrong thing to do to someone like me) and then move on with life. I get that. But it's painful when the notes stop coming. When the letters notifying us that a donation has been made in Logan's honor become fewer and farther between. When it feels like everyone else feels like it's time to move on. When it feels like others feel like maybe I should just buck up and deal with what happened and... get over it. As if that would ever happen. As Miranda Lambert sings in her hubby Blake Shelton's song Over You, which was written in memory of his brother who passed away as a teen, I'll never get over him. I don't want to get over him. I just want to find a way to incorporate his memory into my life in a way that's not excruciatingly painful. I don't know how to do that.
I guess the only other thing I want to say is this: cut me some slack. I'm pretty much in hell, so I like to think that maybe, just maybe, some of the less-than-smart things I say could be pardoned without comment. I feel judged, and I don't need that on top of my grief. Believe me, I really don't.
Sherry,
ReplyDeleteMy older brother died in an accident when I was 9 years old, he was 23 years old. It happened two days before Christmas. For several years after he died we could not be home for Christmas. Christmas has so many visual, sound and even taste cues that we just had to remove ourselves from the environment.Plus he died in a plane crash that still to this day crops up in the news around Christmas. My mom could not handle that. For years she did not sleep. She would read and read and read. I would wake up in the middle of the night and her light would be on. My Dad would buy little book lights so she did not have to have the lamp on. It took about 10 years before she could truly enjoy Christmas. We still to this day do not go to where the accident occurred.I am the youngest of 6 and it still feels like someone is missing at a family gathering. But we are okay. We still miss him so much, I am sad my children will not know their uncle, because he would have been a fun uncle.But we are happy.But it took a while to get there.
I am telling you all of this because I wanted you to know that you are not alone and people have not forgotten about you or Logan. I have never met you or Logan, I do live in pleasanton though, but I think of Logan often.Snuggling with my 4 year old boy yesterday I thought of Logan.
Y'all are always in our thoughts and prayers. And Logan is simply unforgettable!! <3
ReplyDeleteThis is all still so new, Sherry. You'll find your way.
ReplyDeleteHugs,
Kris
Still here, checking your blog daily, praying for you all whenever I look down at my wrist band and look up at Logan's picture above my desk or when I pull out a shirt of the boys' with LIghtening McQueen... You/Logan are not forgotten in our family, and many others I know. Hugs and prayers during this very hard time!
ReplyDeleteI still think about Logan, and I think of him as a special person, and he is not just gone. He's more alive than he's ever been, even though it is terrible that you can't have him with you the way he used to be. I am still praying for you and your family. I wish there was more I could do, and I wish that none of this had ever happened. I am praying for healing for you and your family.
ReplyDeleteShrug off any judgments made against you. Anyone who will judge you or your family, aren't anyone who would have opinions worth caring about. And though honestly, I don't have any way to feel the extent of your pain, I have lost a loved one to a horrible cancer. You have every right to feel angry, bitter, hurt, anything you feel is your right. And your honesty has helped ME accept and work through losing my aunt (though I know that pain just can't compare to your own. I'd never claim that. But I felt very ashamed of some my feelings, even some towards God, and seeing you just outright saying it made me realize that it's okay.) You are brave enough to say everything you're feeling and thinking, most people aren't. But knowing that others felt the same "taboo" things is what we need.
ReplyDeleteYou don't know me, and I haven't left many comments (mostly from fear that something I wrote was offensive.. I'd feel horrible if I ever offended you or your family.) I know it isn't any real comfort, but I still think of Logan every day. I've never met any of you, but his spirit and life just shines through the pictures and stories and has totally changed how I live and view many situations. I will never know the loss like your family... but I will also never forget your son. His way of living life,even while battling an illness, turned him into my hero. And I try to tell as many people as I can about him, to spread his spirit and wonderful amazingness everywhere I can. I would never say get over him... I will pray that you all can move past the pain. But also, that he is never forgotten. Because his memory is how we will keep him here.
(My aunt who died of cancer had a very rare form of childhood bone cancer. She was one of the first to receive another's bones to replace her own bones that had been filled with cancer cells. She was so ill all her life, she had her kids prepared with the family motto she made...
"To live on in the hearts of others is not to have died.")
You and your family are so brave. Logan has touched so many, and your blog has reached out to so many who just want/need to know that it is okay to feel these things. I wish I had words to heal your pain. And bless you for not holding back.