Chapter 35, PART 1

My son died eight years ago, and I realize a lot has changed. Despite some setbacks, such as my husband of twenty years dying of a stroke, I find that I have a peaceful calm that I never thought I could achieve again after Logan’s death.

The feeling of being on the brink of insanity has passed. I cannot say I do not cry about Logan at times because I still do, but infrequently. However, even in the midst of crying, my past experiences have shown me that I will get through it and that I can enjoy life again. When I cry, it isn’t with the hopelessness that I originally felt. I acknowledge the sadness of missing my son, but I remain aware that in an hour or two, I will achieve an even keel to my emotional state again. I look forward to holidays again, but on a smaller scale. Anger and blame seem to have dissipated and I have managed to teach and be effective in my job, as well as write this book.

Chapter 35, PART 2

The biggest change I see is that Logan’s death does not overshadow all aspects of my life. For a while, it seemed as though every path my thoughts took led back to his death, but now the paths lead to different places. I have acceptance of his passing and have incorporated it into the rest of my life. When I play with my grandchildren, the joy of the moment isn’t superseded by the thought of my loss. I enjoy cycling and exercising again. I focus on my classwork to teach and find it rewarding.

I miss my son, yes, but I remind myself to be grateful for that which I still have. After he died, I had lost all hope, but now hope arises again. As Shirley, the woman I met at the benefit dinner told me, “It doesn’t become better, but it becomes different.” Over time, our psyche gradually accepts the death, making living bearable and at times, enjoyable, again. I agree with Shirley now although seven months after my son’s death, I could not see how this would be possible.

Our children’s death will always be a part of our lives, but it won’t be the only part. Last week, I woke up thinking about this book because I had stalled on finishing it. I likened my personality to a patchwork quilt, made up of old memories and grief. As I pondered this thought, it occurred to me that patchwork quilts are comforting and useful, and for now, that is enough.

Chapter 35, PART 3

In the initial years of Logan’s grief, I did not think that I would ever be truly happy again, but I was wrong. My life brings me great joy: appreciating the beauty of the leaves changing in cool weather in the Georgia mountains where I now live, having dinner with my other son and my daughter and grandchildren, decorating for the holidays, volunteering, writing. I remember not just the sorrow, but the laughter of Logan, as a young boy, trying to melt his Tron doll on a light bulb (the smell emanating from his bedroom tipped me off) or him scoring his first soccer goal.

However, it’s not just the past in which he lives. He still lives in my heart and I think of him as I’m walking, but not with sorrow, buy with joy for having had him in my life.