You changed my life, though I didn’t go to the hospital and hold you. Your time on earth was only in your mother’s womb, but we love you as much now as we could have if you had lived here with us the entire time.

Sitting at your funeral, dear Logan, I saw your uncle transformed. I watched your parents be so strong, and I watched your sisters – so young, and yet so aware – shine and give us all their strength and trust. This wasn’t the first time they had been here. You weren’t the first baby they buried, but everyone prayed you would be the last.

We didn’t get to see your first steps, or watch you change from an infant into a toddler into a child into a man. We didn’t get to chronicle your life in a series of milestones and photographs and family parties. The list of what we didn’t do, what we can’t do, what we will never understand, is long and complicated. It’s filled with tears, and we’re comforted only by time, by prayer, by the grace of God, allowing us more blessings.

You were a blessing, dear Logan, even as we struggle with the pain the blessing brought. You were a miracle in the short life you lived, and you changed a corner of the world – and so did your parents for letting you live.

We don’t doubt that you watch over us and pray for us daily. We need you there, in heaven, and I needed you to be here just the way you were.

Dear Logan, before you my heart was so much harder. Before you, I was not at all convinced that life was special or sacred or important. You changed all that. The sight of your tiny little body, surrounded by the small white casket; the faith of your mother and father; the trust of your grandmother and uncle; the way the family drew together in a tight embrace to hold each other. Had I not seen it, dear Logan, would I have even considered the miracle that is my own daughter? Would I have even been capable of loving the way I love now? Could I have been enough of a mother or even just enough of a person?

On this day, and on so many other days, we remember you, Logan. It’s not without tears, or pain, but it is without remorse. If your mother wouldn’t be the first one to see you smile, why not Mother Mary, the Heavenly Father, and the angels?

Today, Logan, we will cry a little and rejoice a lot. We will offer our sufferings for those around us who are broken and lonely, hungry and homebound, imprisoned and suffering. We will thank God for the miracle you are in our lives, and we will pray for those who deny themselves the miracle you represent.