February 11

Eleven years ago today, I held Logan in my arms as he took his last breath. He was tired, I know, so for him it was a blessing to go on ahead to Heaven. But for me... it's never easy to be left behind; to wonder about the whys and the what-ifs and to cope with the wildly swinging emotions that impact life from the moment of loss onward. It's a winding, lonely road that no one asks to walk. So looking back can be hard.

But it was a good day of remembering, I think, even if it was low-key. Adam and I donated blood in the morning; when I sat down in the waiting area, I looked over, spied package of "Kars" trail mix in a basket, and chuckled to myself. A little later in the day, Adam made chocolate chip cookies and then spaghetti and meatballs for dinner (both Logan-favorites) and we video chatted with Abby. Eventually, we closed out the day by watching "Cars." 

As I sit here and reflect, I'm not entirely sure what to write. I guess more than anything, I'm deeply grateful that gradually, over the past 11 years, my pain has been given a purpose. I'm thankful that God has used my experience --the hurt, the loss, the anger, the desperation, the hopelessness-- to speak into the lives of others who wonder if their current forays into darkness will ever end. (Spoiler alert: they will.) I'm thankful that when I think of Logan now, the good memories trump the hard ones. I'm thankful that over time, the edges of that suffering have dulled. And more than anything, I'm grateful that Logan is in Heaven and that I'll see him again.