The Hospital

Journal entry by Ann — Dec 5, 2017
So I have been preparing for this visit for a few months. I have been collecting treats to put in a basket and writing a card. A card that would speak just the right words that have been overflowing from my heart for the last 10 months. Are there even words that would cover such an event? I have been feeling the need to go up to the hospital and revisit the floor Logan spent the last days of his life. While Scott was in the hospital after his knee surgery I had two opportunities to go up to that floor, but wasn’t able to bring myself to take those steps.
So yesterday I built up the courage. I dropped Scott off for a meeting and drove down to the hospital. I parked the car, asked God for strength, and took many deep breaths. I grabbed the gift basket and began the walk to the floor where I spent the most difficult days of my life. I stepped onto the elevator and pressed the button for the eighth floor. As the doors opened I paused and took a deep breath. I could feel the Lord with me as I stepped out the door, walked down the hall, and turned the corner. As I rounded the corner and passed through the doors I experienced strangely familiar feelings. The heaviness I felt inside every time I entered those heavy doors was present. Though this time was different I wasn’t going to see my son, he wasn’t there. My steps were slow and awkward as I approached the nurses’ desk. A very sweet nurse who I recognized from caring for us and Logan approached me and asked how she could help me. I realized I had not prepared the words I wanted to say. My mind went blank and tears began to flow. All I could do was point to the basket. Finally the words came. By the time I was done she came around the desk and hugged me and we both stood there trying to hold back the tears that didn’t want to listen.
She allowed me to go into the Logan has spent his days in. It was different. The bed was changed around and some furniture was missing. All the food, flowers, and gifts people had brought were gone. It felt empty. The room looked clean, but it sure was dusty! Memories flooded my mind and engulfed my heart. Conversations with visitors and my private talks with Logan filled the room. The last words I said to him were, “It’s okay to go home, Logan, you don’t have to be strong anymore.” Those are words you don’t think you’ll have to say, but I did with comfort knowing his Heavenly Father was waiting with open arms to welcome him. Just the thought of that alone overwhelmed me with joy to my very core. Knowing Logan was going to be face to face with the God that loved him and the one true God that we had taught him so much about. Knowing that he would only experience pure joy and be spared from the pain of this world soothed my ache just a bit. I said goodbye again and left that room.
I then walked down the hall past the nurses station to the play room where we spent much time with loved ones. Just before I reached that room I saw a boy about 14 years old sitting in a chair looking sad. His head was down and he was staring at the knuckles of his hand that were recently opened and bleeding. I stopped and asked him if he was okay. He said he was fine. I said you look sad do you need anything? He said no as he pointed to the room his family member was in. His eyes were so sad looking I had to fight every ounce of my being to not grab him up and hug him. He probably thought I worked there and not that I was just some strange lady wanting to snuggle his sadness away.
I then turned the corner and once again pushed the heavy doors open hoping this was the last time I would ever have to enter them. I went to the elevator trying to stifle the tears that were welling up inside. The door opened and so did the flood gates. I could no longer control any emotion. I cried down every hall I walked and all the way out to my car. In the car I sobbed. I cried all the way home. I even had to pull over several times to get control of myself enough to continue to drive. I continued to cry on and off the rest of the evening. There was no way to clear the dust away.
The night Logan passed I didn’t cry at the hospital, on the drive, or when I got home. I think I hadn’t allowed myself to cry so I think this was the down pour of the emotion that I had controlled the evening of his passing. Things strike you in such strange ways that you never know what is going to happen until it does. There are triggers all around and sometimes they brings tears and other moments they warm my heart.
Grief is unique to each person and every situation. There are seven of us in our house and each one has different grief story.
Thank you Lord, for the story you have lovingly hand written special for each of us. Through each and every event in our lives you are there. You allow joy and pain, but never leave us alone in any circumstance. There is no greater love than the love we can receive from you if we choose to live our life for you. There are not words to express how thankful I am too be Your daughter, the daughter of a King, Creator of all.
Sending hugs and love, Ann