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.


  1. I remember hating moving to our new house and telling David that it just felt wrong -- like we were leaving #7 behind, because he was supposed to be with us when we moved... but he wasn't. And I do remember feeling the same way about 2011. I don't say this to come close to trying to say that I understand what you are going through. Just that what you are saying does make sense to me. I had similar thoughts, even if they weren't shared by others. And you have my heart... and Logan will never be forgotten.

  2. Every time I think of you, Logan and your family I give my kids super big hugs and kisses. I remember Logan, and I never even knew him.

  3. Holidays are especially difficult if you've lost someone. For Catholics, Jan.1 is the feast of the Solemnity of Mary. We lost Mary-Therese on Jan. 5, so it's bittersweet for us as well. Celebrating it as a holy day instead of just holiday helps. I'm lifting your aching mother's heart up to the Mother of Sorrows. And I think I shared your story before, but I will again. I also nominated it for a YCN award. Love, mar