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.

Monday, December 31, 2012

It's Linear

Time is linear.

I've repeated that phrase to myself many times today. If I hadn't, I think my heart would've literally broken into two messy halves every single time I had to stomach someone gleefully chirping Happy New Year! Yeah, whatever.

Some people view 'New Years' as an opportunity to make a fresh start; to wipe the old year's slate clean and make better choices moving forward. But for me, it only means one thing, if I look at the big leap from December 31 to January 1 as something more than a simple tick in time: I'm leaving Logan behind. How can I wipe 2012's slate clean without wiping him out? I know it sounds ridiculous; after all, aren't there pithy sayings up the wazoo claiming that those we love never really leave us? I call BS on that. It's a nice thought, but it's just not true. I can't hold him or hug him or talk to him or ask him questions. He's just not here. That doesn't mean his spirit isn't alive on some plane of existence, but he's not... here.

For now, I can wake up each morning and think "One year ago, Logan was still here with me". Soon, I won't be able to say that anymore. And in less than five hours, I won't be able to say that he's been with me at all "this year".

It's not that I want 2012 to last forever. It's been the worst year of my life by leaps and bounds. It's been a mix of devastation and horror that's rocked my faith to its very core. I still haven't recovered, in fact. I don't know if I will. I know I won't ever be the person I once was. But will I at least be genuinely happy again? Will the sun ever shine as brightly as it once did? Will the brutal physical effects of two years of gut-wrenching stress ever right themselves, or am I doomed to age early? I don't know.

It's more that life just feels so wrong as it is. We float through each day, alternating between feeling 'okay' and 'wretched'. Never really happy or at ease or enthusiastic. I'm sure I hide it well; I've had practice hiding things for a long time. But that doesn't mean that under the layers of me, I'm not heartbroken. Because in a very real way, I am.

I fear that as we move into 2013, Logan will be forgotten. I've begged and pleaded --pathetically, embarrassingly, probably annoyingly-- for people to share my tribute to Logan. And I'm thankful to those who have. But a lot of you haven't. And I know you haven't; I can check the stats. So why don't you do it? Inconvenience? Discomfort? Don't like me as a person? Goodness knows I've not asked for much, other than prayer. I simply don't understand why it's not getting more attention than it is. I want people to know his story and how awesome he was, but I keep hitting walls. And that's hard and frustrating and maddening.

I didn't choose this life; it was given to me. The reality is that it could very well have been given to ANY of you, so how would you handle it? Would the notion that your child could be forgotten sit well with you?

I didn't really start out intending to rant and rave. I've just been feeling frustrated, and well, sometimes we have to get it out. Please forgive me for foregoing the silly hats and champagne and party poppers this year; after the brutal succession of Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas, my heart's just not in it.

So yeah: Time is linear. And it's important that I view it that way, because the leap from year to year is merely a step. And from that vantage point, Logan isn't so far away after all.

Thursday, December 27, 2012


Anyone connected to me on Facebook is probably totally tired of hearing about this, so you can feel free to tune it out. But I want to get it out there for others, too.

Remember this tribute that I wrote shortly after Logan passed away? (Click the link.) Well, I decided to nominate it for a Yahoo! Contributor Network award. It felt a little obnoxious to go the self-nom route, but I really want this. I don't care about the monetary prize. I want it because I want more people to read about Logan and how he lived his life.

See, the great majority of people like me --moms who fight tooth and nail to save their children for months or years on end, only to have their hearts broken by worst case scenario outcomes-- don't get much attention. We just don't. Our kids die, and most people forget about us and our heartache. (Not that any of you have, since you're still here reading! Don't think THAT.) We're not sensationalized like some, and though I'm not all about sensationalism, I AM about making sure my child is remembered for being the amazing, incredible, fabulous person he was. It's my job to push it and make sure he has the legacy he so much deserved to have in this life.

So do me a favor. Help me out. Click and read the article. It's linked above. I just read it again to be sure I'm not pimping something that's not very good, and I still think it's good. Worthy. If you think it's worthy of recognition -- if Logan and the way he lived his life is inspiring-- please share it with your friends and family. Part of the award criteria involves page views, and I'm truly worried that I'll be lacking in that department.

Okay. I won't mention it again. But he's worth it, folks. He's totally and completely worth it.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

The Paintbrush

With Christmas right around the corner, I desperately want to say something profound. Meaningful. Memorable. But I'm just... me. I don't concentrate well, my thinking is scattered and I'm generally here and there and everywhere, mentally. So I'll just do what I can and leave it at that.

It rained a lot today. A friend joked that she saw the Ark go by this afternoon, and I could totally see why, between the puddles in the yard and the standing water on the patio. But it wasn't just rain. It was much more than that. It was intermittent rain; driving torrents interwoven with bright beams of sunlight. Which, of course, meant rainbows. Big, beautiful ones that arched across the sky. When we (yes, we) left for church this morning, I saw my first of many on the day. If not for the line of houses on our street, I could've seen the whole thing, end-to-end. It was sort of like being on Kaua'i, just... colder. And less tropical.

The bright bands of color were comforting. I haven't been really into the whole God-thing lately, but I could see Him painting a picture. And I like to think that He let Logan hold the brush now and again.

Then later, despite the rain, we stopped by the cemetery to check on the flowers and wave hello to our Sunshine. I think Adam and I were both touched to find a pretty potted plant sitting there, keeping his space looking fresh and alive. So thank you to whomever left it for him. Those gestures mean a lot.

Okay, I think that's enough for now. I can't muster the energy to really write. But I wanted to say hi and Merry Christmas.