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.

Saturday, July 7, 2012

At Night

It's a double-edged sword.

I'm a night owl; have been for as long as I can remember. I much prefer watching the moon trace its route across the sky to a bleary-eyed sunrise over the ocean. I like the silence and the stillness of the darkness; the peace that comes at the close of a long day. It feels like a long, relaxed sigh. But it's a double-edged sword, because in the silence, the sadness emerges from where it hides during daylight hours. And that's hard. The quiet stillness used to be my friend, but now it's something different. It's the bearer of tears that I should probably cry but would rather just hold in. It's uncomfortable. Almost unwelcome. Yet it comes every day without fail, just like for me, the memories of Logan's last few weeks return like a flood to inundate me with regret.

It's July. I know that's an obvious observation, but July is rife with meaning for us because the final day of the month marks Logan's sixth birthday. The one he mapped out for us before his last hospital admission. The one that he wanted to celebrate with lunch at Outback, dinner at Chuck E. Cheese, a chocolate Cars cake, a pinata and blue sprinkles. I never got to ask him precisely what he wanted to do with said sprinkles; I just knew that they were on the list. So when the 31st arrives, we'll do and have those things. Even if my heart should completely shatter, we'll do and have those things. Because he wanted them.

I haven't written much because my thoughts are painfully --frustratingly-- disjointed. When I start writing, I'm never sure where my mind will go, or whether I'll even be able to hold a thought long enough to make it make sense to myself (much less anyone else).

I'm not in a horrible place. No, some days, I feel almost good. When Abby, Isaac and Brady --I can't say 'the kids' anymore; no, I have to name them because 'the kids' will forever include Logan, even though he's not here-- are well-behaved and cute and in good moods, I feel like life could be 'right' again some day. But then the moment fades and I remember that my life will never be 'right' ever again. It'll never be okay that Logan isn't here. It'll never be okay that he was taken from us. That doesn't make life unlivable or without purpose; it just makes it... hard. Chore-like. Passable at times. Even happy at times. But never truly okay. And I know that eventually, I have to be okay with that.

I haven't said much about God. It's a sore spot, despite my previous assertions to the contrary. I think it's impossible --right now-- for me to not blame God for what happened. It's impossible for me to not feel a sense of betrayal so deep and so sharp that it takes away my breath. I don't understand God. I don't understand the way the world works. I still don't believe that He wanted this to happen to our family or that He planned it. No, suggest that to me and you'll still receive a written (or if you're lucky, in-person) tongue-lashing.

Still, it breaks my heart to know that I poured my entire existence into praying for healing yet it didn't matter in the end. I can't explain that. So I push God --and at times, the very notion of God-- away. It's a silly thing to do, really, because all I want is proof that Heaven is real and that Logan is there. At my core, I long for proof that I don't --and probably can't-- have. After all, I believed Logan would be well and a physical part of our family for a long time to come, yet he died anyway. I had faith. And it wasn't rewarded. And amid the racket from people who are well-meaning but truly have no idea what they're talking about, I have no idea where to go from here. Not a clue.

And so I roll with the waves. I get up every morning and go about the business of the daylight hours. Then after the sun sets and Adam turns in and the house is silent, I think and I cry and I hope for something. For proof that he's still out there, even if I can't see him now.


  1. You don't know me but my son Stephen died in April of brain cancer. I struggle with the idea that some people hold so dear...Everything happens for a reason??? Seriously? I don't believe for one second that God gave my child cancer or that it was "meant to be that way" garbage! Bad things happen to good people all the time. That is life in an imperfect world. Does that idea keep me from being angry with God? Unfortunately no. I'm still angry. I hope someday I wont be, but for now, like you, I just keep moving.

    1. I couldn't agree more, Amber. I've seen your posts here before and read parts of Stephen's blog. It's still hard for me to do those things, so forgive me for not responding to you. But I'm here, and I know you're there, and I know what you feel. I know how you wish you could crawl out of your skin at times. I know how your moods change like the direction of the breeze on a windy day. You're not alone.

  2. Wow, I just got chills reading your words because I share Logan's birthday, and maybe that's why I was so taken with him. Dash & Anna and I still think of your family, but especially Logan. What a bright little light he was! Now I'm always going to "celebrate" with him on my/our birthday.

  3. I can't imagine not being angry with God.

    Kris from LJ

  4. I think it's beautiful that you all will "celebrate" the way that Logan wanted to. I know that it will truly be bittersweet...probably more of the bitter :( I can't even imagine.
    I am sure that if I ever dealt with anything similar to what you have gone through, I would have so many of the same wonderings, hesitations, challenges, annoyances, questions, etc. Still praying for you my friend.
    It's amazing to me how often Logan's name comes up in our conversations...for Derek to have only been his classmate for a year, in preschool even! We talk about him often, and although I know that can't be much of a comfort to you, his character, his sweet personality, who he was in his perfect innocence, lives on through sharing his story. I know it's no replacement...it can't be. But he is still touching people; people he never even met.