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Column: He was only 19

Following+the+recent+loss+of+a+friend+due+to+cancer%2C+staff+reporter+Mandy+Halbert+and+other+Meadows+Baptist+students+wore+their+friend%27s+favorite+color+green+on+March+13.+At+Relay+for+Life+on+Friday%2C+Halbert+will+wear+her+green+shirt+again++as+she+reflects+on+the+loss+of+life+and+the+need+to+combat+cancer.
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Column: He was only 19

Following the recent loss of a friend due to cancer, staff reporter Mandy Halbert and other Meadows Baptist students wore their friend's favorite color green on March 13. At Relay for Life on Friday, Halbert will wear her green shirt again  as she reflects on the loss of life and the need to combat cancer.

Following the recent loss of a friend due to cancer, staff reporter Mandy Halbert and other Meadows Baptist students wore their friend's favorite color green on March 13. At Relay for Life on Friday, Halbert will wear her green shirt again as she reflects on the loss of life and the need to combat cancer.

Mandy Halbert

Following the recent loss of a friend due to cancer, staff reporter Mandy Halbert and other Meadows Baptist students wore their friend's favorite color green on March 13. At Relay for Life on Friday, Halbert will wear her green shirt again as she reflects on the loss of life and the need to combat cancer.

Mandy Halbert

Mandy Halbert

Following the recent loss of a friend due to cancer, staff reporter Mandy Halbert and other Meadows Baptist students wore their friend's favorite color green on March 13. At Relay for Life on Friday, Halbert will wear her green shirt again as she reflects on the loss of life and the need to combat cancer.

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“They lost him last night.”

These were the words that turned my world upside down.

On the outside, Logan Jones had curly blond hair that he wore in two long braids, dressed in colorful and uncoordinated outfits, and had the ability to fill an entire room with life. On the inside, cancer was slowly taking over.

The Friday before spring break, all students looked forward to a week away from the stresses of school, but for me, I apprehensively waited for word on Logan’s condition.

It was fourth period when I received the news. My friend was in critical, but stable condition.They sent out information of his diagnosis: leukemia.

I had seen him at church only a few days before. How did we not notice the weight loss? How did we not notice his lack of energy?

I continued my day at school as normally as I could, but I could never escape the fear that Logan wouldn’t make it.

I told myself, “He’ll be alright. He can do this.” Little did I know, in Baylor Medical in Dallas, my friend was experiencing organ failure.

When I got home, I heard about the complications. They had sedated him and given him a breathing tube and a feeding tube to allow his body to rest.

It was impossible to hold in the tears any longer.

Logan’s friends met at the church that night to cover him in prayer. For hours we prayed and cried and begged that he would recover.

We learned that Logan had probably had cancer for over a year, but had no symptoms. His blood was so full of white blood cells that it was as thick as syrup.

They put him on his first round chemotherapy that night and planned to give him another the following day. He was stable and things seemed to be improving. For the moment we were all relieved.

On Saturday morning, Logan’s family gave us the news that he was still in stable condition and that the doctors were confident that the treatment would work. I was grateful for the good news.

My heart shattered. I hurt in a way I had never experienced. ”

However after lunch, I received one of the worst texts I could imagine. Logan’s heart had stopped and he was put on a machine that would pump his blood.

We did not get more information until that night around 11.

Logan was gone.

My heart shattered. I hurt in a way I had never experienced.

He couldn’t be gone. That wasn’t how it was supposed to end. I couldn’t have lost my friend to cancer.

He was only 19 years old. He was full of happiness and energy. His kindness inspired everyone he knew to reach out to others. He was a diehard fan of Alabama football and commonly yelled “Roll Tide.” He was famous for his baby blue blazer and maroon shorts. His hair was curly and hung down slightly past his shoulders. But above all these things, Logan will be remembered for the way he loved people.

Logan was not afraid to tell people that he loved them. He cared for his friends, family, and even strangers in a way that I have never seen. He taught me to never hold back. He taught me to love without fear. He taught me how to be a friend, and for that, I will never forget him.

As Relay for Life arrives on Friday, I hope that all of us will think of the lives that have been affected by cancer. I want us to think of our friends and family members that we have lost to this disease. I hope that Logan’s story will encourage us all to fight to find the causes and the cures.

Our loss and our pain should motivate us to end all types of cancer, so that others don’t face grief like our own.

This one’s for Logan. Roll Tide.

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About the Writer
Mandy Halbert, Staff Reporter

Mandy is a senior this year, but she’s still just as afraid of high school hallways as she was as a freshman. But aside from that, she looks forward...

2 Comments

2 Responses to “Column: He was only 19”

  1. Jennifer Holcomb on April 8th, 2016 9:27 am

    What a powerful story that’s beautifully told. Well done, Mandie. I’m sure your friend would be honored by your words.

  2. ashley on May 12th, 2016 1:28 pm

    The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
    so many things seem filled with the intent
    to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

    Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
    of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
    The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

    Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
    places, and names, and where it was you meant
    to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

    I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
    next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
    The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

    I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
    some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
    I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

    – Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
    I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
    the art of losing’s not too hard to master
    though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

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