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.

Sunday, December 8, 2013


Isaac keeps asking me if it's winter yet. Though we're not anywhere near the depths of freeze that my midwestern and far northern friends will enjoy, it's been below freezing overnight. And for us that's a huge deal. I, of course, keep saying no, since technically, it's still fall.

But in a way, he's right because it's been winter for me for quite a long while.

As an aside before I get to the meat of my entry, there's really no way that this will be anything but cheesy and cliche, but hey, it's all the truth so Cheez Whiz aside, I hope it'll serve some sort of purpose for someone.

So, yes. Winter. I do indeed feel like I've been in a cold, icy place for quite a while. A few years, really, since August of 2010 when everything first started to fall apart. It's almost like my head has been free while my arms and legs have been encased in ice.

But here's the irony. Lately, I've felt the ice begin to melt just a wee bit. Yes, just as we're literally heading into winter, the coldest time of the year, the chill feels a little less intense. There are, of course, pains that come along with moving parts that haven't moved in a long while; the creaking of joints underused. I say the wrong things more often than I want to admit.

I miss my Logan every single day. There probably isn't an hour that goes by that doesn't feature him dancing through my thoughts. But the sadness feels a little less... crippling. I'm loving watching Abby as she becomes a young woman. I'm loving watching Isaac thrive in kindergarten. I'm loving watching Brady talk and walk and shake his booty just like his biggest brother used to do. That prolonged winter tried to take all of that away from me. But at some point, without realizing it, I told the winter that it couldn't do that anymore.

None of this is to say that I'm over it all, because I'm not. You don't get over losing your child, ever. At least not in this life. And there are moments that come along that make me feel like I've been stabbed. Really. I'll be completely fine, and then something completely random or otherwise insignificant will happen and bam, I completely lose my stuffing.

But for now, looking objectively at myself and putting the bad moments aside, I can say that it's all a little better. And I can't ask for more than that.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Sherry, we don't know each other, but I started following your blog a couple of years ago. I don't check it nearly as often as I should, but just wanted to stop by and let you know you've been in my heart and prayers lately. Grief of this magnitude is a lifelong battle, and it hurts even more when you feel alone. Your family's journey has touched so many lives and hearts that you and sweet Logan will never, ever be forgotten. I pray that your winter will soon give way to the blossoms of joy in spring.