My second Christmas without my child

by Tamara Rollison

Tamara and Logan

I will never forget the date, 5:30 a.m., July 22, 2016. My 19-year-old son Logan was pronounced dead in a Virginia hospital. Every bone in his body broken, bleeding from the inside out. His eyes black, his head swollen, his blonde hair blood stained from fatal injuries that literally crushed him when he took the street curve too fast and slammed his truck head on into a tree less than a half mile from our home.

I would never again hear him say, “I love you mom,” or feel that rush of excitement waiting … Read more...