February 11

A decade. It's been a decade since I saw Logan take his last breath on this side of the curtain that separates us from Heaven and Someday.

The five of us remembered him today both individually and together. We remembered him during the car ride to the boys' schools this morning; I told Brady that he has his biggest brother's sense of humor and irrepressible need to shake his booty at random (and often inopportune) times. I told Isaac that I can see his brother's quiet care for others and affability in him.

Adam and I remembered together as we ventured to donate blood this stunning, sunny, 70-degree morning (although only I was able to; apparently Adam's temperature was just a tick too high) and then as we headed down the freeway to the Olive Garden for a quiet lunch. We talked about how we responded to that hard, hard day 10 years ago and how we respond to it now, both in reality and in retrospect.

We all remembered together this evening, with cheese pizza from Costco, a quick visit to the cemetery, ice cream from Coldstone, and a showing of Mater's Tall Tales and Cars Toons.

And our friends remembered; there were texts and messages and emails and Facebook posts. And a pair of flower arrangements and homemade chocolate chip cookies and a new devotional left on the porch. 

And I am grateful for all of it. For everyone who remembered and took the time to say they were thinking of us. Of him. Of what was and of what will be again, whenever Someday arrives.

I still don't love February 11. I'm not sure I ever will. But I am thankful for today and for this life that we live. And for you. Definitely for you, too.