Grief is a big scary monster.
It is rare that I write new articles. Although I miss my Logan, I am fortunate that I have turned the page in my life. When I think of Logan, I no longer think about how he died, but I am grateful to remember him and how he lived. Thoughts of this big silly boy usually make me smile.
Now, for a little personal history which I rarely publicly share. It has been twelve years since Logan died traumatically and dramatically.. It was my suggestion to bury him in Tennessee. It is a beautiful old family cemetery, which I believe is a good place for his siblings to visit and remember their brother. Two years after Logan died, I informed his father that I was divorcing him. This set off another chain of uncontrollable events which shook all of our worlds. Since this time, ten years ago, I have not visited his grave.
Yesterday I had planned to ride to Tennessee with a friend who needed to make a quick trip. Ironically, her destination is only 25 miles from this quaint family cemetery.
As the day progressed, my heart was racing and I felt anxious. I began to worry about other things. My relationship. My dog. My daughter. Obsessive worry without a rationale. So I ordered a pizza- Comfort food and I did not have to leave home. I became demanding with my travel companion. I wanted to drive. I did not want to ride. I wanted to drive my car. I wanted I wanted I wanted.
As my thoughts and my anxiety privately escalated, I realized that these thoughts were a distraction and then I had the meltdown.
I have dealt with Logan’s death but I have not dealt with the funeral and burial in Tennessee. I realized that my emotions are very raw in regards to his grave. It is a place that I literally and figuratively do not visit.
There are so many thoughts about this place. This is the place where my ex husband took a swig of makers mark in the car before going to the gravesite.
The tradition in tennessee is to lower the casket into the ground while the family and friends watch. I adamantly did not want this to occur. As a solution, my daughter and I were told when to get up during the service and leave. Looking back, i now realize that this was foreshadowing of how my family would be later become divided.
At the funeral home, I noticed that someone sent a photo frame w basketballs on it. I thought- "Logan likes basketball but he loved football but was a nice sentiment" Then my niece told me that it was sent for her. From her basketball team. My son died and my niece got a gift. Plants and gifts were later dispersed to different family members. I did not want any of those things but i felt like I was living in a bad dream.
I spent a lot of time designing a headstone in order to remember Logan. This was something that i could control when life was spiraling.
Sometimes we live life in silos. I have spoken to thousands of people about Logan’s death via classroom lectures, conferences, articles, and even a podcast. I have analyzed the event of Logan’s death, as well as many healthcare and legal professionals as a learning opportunity. The story of how he died is easy for me to share now. This is my comfortable silo. The rest of the story is not as comfortable.
Yesterday, I did not go there physically but I went there emotionally. As I processed the events of the burial with my friends, I sobbed. My face and eyes are puffy. I began to take my own advice and write the story down. Logan’s bones are buried there in Tennessee but his soul is not.
This big scary grief monster surrounded me until I gave in to the emotions. Now, I am no longer afraid. Peace comes like a trickle of rain...