Another Father’s Day has come and gone. I’m happy to have it over with.
Despite Logan’s nonchalant attitude to the holiday as it approached, our trip to the cemetery Sunday brought up a bunch of questions, once again. He’s getting too smart, too soon. The worst: when he asked me how old Nolan was when he died. Then asked me how old I am now. The answer to both: 29. Immediately he asked me if I was going to die, too.
Then he asked me what would happen if he were to get sick with the cancer Nolan had? Would the doctors be able to make him better? Would they be able to make him better? Would he die, too?
Logan is still processing what it means to be alive and what it means to be dead. He insisted Nolan needed to come, to get sleep. He wanted to leave him money, coins buried in the earth, because he would need money, too. He asked, if we dug deep enough, and he was able to see Nolan, could he somehow make Nolan wake up? Come alive? What if he had magic powers, would that work?
Yes, this Father’s Day broke my heart all over again. And I realized Logan’s heart will break a million more times through the years, too, as he gains more understanding of death and the toll losing his Dad will have on him as he gets older.
The silver lining? I remind myself that despite all that we have lost, there are things we have gained, too. I wrote this essay for Babble.com about how losing Nolan helped me learn how to live and be a better mom.