Fifty-Two Weeks

Fifty-two weeks ago, my life was forever changed. In a way, it's a mercy that 2012 was a leap year, since it means we have an extra day to reflect --and prepare-- before the 11th arrives. THE date.

But today... it all happened 52 weeks ago today. A Saturday.

It's only late-morning, but my day has already been punctuated by fleeting flashbacks that shadowed my actions. Waking up tired... the drive to dance class... the quick trip through the McDonalds drive-thru on the way home... all of it.

Only now, of course, despite engaging in some of the same activities, things are... different. Instead of being at CHO, helplessly watching as Logan drifted off toward Heaven and the reward that awaited him there, I'm sitting in my family room. Writing. And the McDonalds bag isn't in the passenger side floor of my car, contents uneaten and getting colder by the second. No. They've been consumed and the trash stowed away in the bin. And in place of the rain-saturated clouds that loomed overhead 52 weeks ago are clear, beautifully blue skies. No tears in today's sky. No clouds to hold them in -- or let them fall.

I'm remembering just a fraction of how it felt to say good-bye... or maybe just see you later... I always have to remind myself that it was see you later and not good-bye... because I can't open the flood gates... yet. After all, there are still two more days. But the memories still come like little leaks in a dam. I could just jam my fingers into the holes, but there wouldn't be much of a point, would there?

And so the day continues.

A Melody

As the big anniversary approaches, I find myself drawn to a song by Brad Paisley. It speaks to me, touches my core, in a way that I can't really explain.

When I get where I'm going,
On the far side of the sky,
The first thing I'm gonna do
Is spread my wings and fly...

I can imagine Logan smiling. Laughing. Flying. Blissfully removed from the pains that plagued him on earth. Free to be the amazing kid he was created to be.

But does he remember me? Does he miss me? Will he know me when we're together again?

I mull those questions a lot. Of course I do. I carried him under my heart for nine months and in my arms for 5 1/2 years. He'll be a part of my soul forever.

Though I can't really answer my own questions, I do believe this to be true...

But when I get where I'm goin,
And I see my maker's face,
I'll stand forever in the light,
Of his amazing Grace.

And that's what matters, isn't it? Above and beyond all the pain and suffering and disappointment and discouragement of this world.

He's there. Standing in the light. And some day, there will be a reunion. And a party, when I get where I'm going. And I live for that, but for now, I live here.

And the intermingling of the blessings that I can see here and the promise of what's to come has to be enough.

And most of the time, it is.

35

I know women typically like to keep their ages under wraps, but not me. I turn 35 years old tomorrow. I know some of you are scoffing incredulously and chuckling that I'm still a babe, but you have absolutely no idea how old I feel; how much the stress that I've been under has worn away at my body.

My birthday has the distinction of being not only the last 'holiday' before the one-year anniversary of Logan's passing, but it's also the 11-month marker. On top of that, it's the one that officially plunks me down into 'Advanced Maternal Age' territory. All painful flashes of reality.

Logan spent both my 33rd and 34th birthdays hospitalized, so I never had the chance to be with my entire family on my special day. Not once. That's an icy cold truth, and one that hadn't dawned on me until now: I will never once get to spend a birthday with my entire family.

Despite that, I'm hoping that somehow, in some way, God will allow me to 'hear' from Logan tomorrow. I have no idea how it would ever happen, but I long for it. I'd love to hear his chirpy voice or dance with him in my dreams. I'm just hoping for... something.

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.

Legacy

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.

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.

Thanks and Stuff

Thanksgiving was much harder than I'd imagined it would be.

I mean, all of the holidays since Logan went Home have been challenging, but yesterday... different level. And I'm not entirely sure why. It's probably because of the meaning and intention behind Thanksgiving. Maybe I'm an ingrate, but it's very hard for me to be grateful this year. It's hard to look back and remember the hell we've suffered and express gratitude. It's hard to wake up crying in the middle of the night. It's hard to remember how it felt to hold Logan as he drew his last breath. It's trauma. It's not something I'm just going to move beyond right now; maybe not ever. But definitely not yet.

I don't know. I guess that's not fair of me. But it's my life. My reality. And no amount of preaching by others or reflection on all that I DO have can outweigh our tremendously painful loss. Unless you've been where we are... no, you don't understand and you can't really relate. That doesn't mean I don't want you to talk to me. Not at all! It just means that it doesn't help to hear things like 'oh, I totally get it' when no, you don't.

But anyway. We had a nice dinner with Adam's extended family. But if I'm honest, my heart wasn't in it. I wanted to be at home, wearing pajamas, cuddled in my big comfy recliner, wrapped up in my plush heated blanket, watching something completely trivial on TV. Maybe it's hiding, though I'm more inclined to call it surviving.

On the bright side, I took Abby out for a little Black Friday shopping this morning. At Bath and Body Works, I picked up some sparkly Twisted Peppermint Shimmer Spray, not because I want to smell like candy, but because Logan loved it. I remember him watching me get ready in the morning, and can still hear him chirping 'use the sparkly stuff!' He'd take the bottle, spritz it on my forearms for me, and then happily note my shimmering skin. The memory fills my heart with warmth. And that's just what I need these days.