Lovely Little Blog Readers.Thank you.

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

London Olympic Stadium holds 80,000 people. This blog was viewed about 1,900,000 times in 2011. If it were competing at London Olympic Stadium, it would take about 24 sold-out events for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Self control vs Self destruction. And Happy Fucking New Year.

Ronan. Happy Fucking New Year. No. There will never be anything “Happy,” about it again. This is how I know I will never be normal again. This is how I know, I will continue to live in Zombieland. Because everything stings so much that I can’t be among the living. Everyone is so busy being happy. It’s as if they have all forgotten about you. But what do I expect? For everybody to take this year off, from celebrating their beautiful lives? For the ball not to drop in New York City? Exactly. I told you life goes on for others.

We are back home and I’ll admit it, I’m acting like a brat. We got home on the night of our 10 year anniversary and I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t fake it at all. The happiness that I am supposed to feel. I am thankful….. For as much as I can be. But feeling happy just does not exist. Your daddy didn’t ask much, but the little he asked, I couldn’t do. All he wanted was some acknowledgment that our 10 years was a big deal. I gave him my snarky commentary about why the fuck does everyone make such a big deal about 10 years, when every year should be just as sacred and valued. I begged him to please just skip over the 10 years and next year we could do something nice. I don’t want to celebrate anything when everything feels so wrong. He told me he had a gift for me which made me lose it even more as I specifically told him there was nothing I wanted. He said he knew, but it was something he wanted me to have anyway. I pretty purple amethyst ring. I told him to take it back. He told me he wanted me to know how much he loved me. I begged and pleaded with him to take it away and told him I didn’t need things to know how much he loved me. That I already knew and would always know. He insisted that you would love for me to have it and that you would have told me how “cute,” I looked wearing it. I just laid in bed and sobbed while I kept one eye on your Urn. I made him take the ring away and told him I wasn’t worthy of pretty things because I let you die. I fell asleep in a puddle of my own tears. I had spent the day being so proud of myself for the stupidest things that I used to be able to do, in my sleep. I got your brothers from Portland to Phoenix, safe and sound, all by myself. I checked in our luggage. We had dinner at the airport. We made it through security, to our flight, and home. This is a big thing to accomplish, when you have a dead child. Traveling with 2, not 3 little guys was such a mental head game, that I really don’t know how I did it. But I did and I of course, did a fucking good job. Gold star for me. After we landed in Phoenix, I listened to myself, telling myself in my head, what a good job I had done. Then I went to, are you FUCKING kidding me? This is something that you now get to be proud of? Something you used to be able to do in your sleep? What kind of fuckery is this? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s the most fucking fucked kind of fuckery that exists. It is my life now.

I ran around all day Friday, catching up on things and being pissed off that I was wearing a strapless dress because it was hot enough in January, to do so. Bloody hell. Where was my rainy gloomy weather that is so able to explain how I feel, without me having to say a word? Where were my rain boots and dirty, muddy puddles of tears? The tears that I was able to take a break from crying because the weather was able to cry for me just for a bit so I let it. They were back in Washington, that’s where. So, I spent all Friday, running about being blinded by the fake plastic trees of this world that I feel like kicking the shit out of. Where I have to put on my fake, sunny smile because that’s what the weather wants me to do but Ro, I don’t want to do it. I want to go and live in my underground world with all the other bereaved parents of the world where happiness and sunshine no longer exist. I don’t want to have to listen to the others in the world as they complain about their bad days which include things like getting a flat tire or their nanny being sick. When I hear these things it is all I can do to not cover my ears and drop down into the fetal position. Maybe I should just start doing that. I wonder how different this world would be if we all acted the way we felt really felt instead of hiding everything behind our lipgloss and dark sunglasses. I’ll bet it would be a complete mess but at least it would be a TRUE complete mess and not so fake and insincere. I was also having some major mom guilt on Friday so one of my errands included going to the grocery store. You know how much I hate this now, Ro. I freeze up, freak out, and panic. I made myself do it because the thought of your brothers living off of processed food any longer is destroying me. I don’t cook anymore, unless you count cereal, frozen pizza, fruit or veggies. Your daddy has taken over the majority of the cooking. It is something that I used to live for back in the days when you were here and you were my favorite little helper. The two of us, cooking together, was my heaven. I wanted to make your daddy feel good by coming home to a home cooked meal, like he used to. The one he deserves to come home to, every night. I made it half way through my shopping, panicked over some mom who was pushing her little boy in the cart and almost abandoned all of my groceries to bolt for my car. I took a deep breath and stopped myself from doing so. I had to talk myself through every next step in order to get to finish up the shopping and get to the checkout line. I couldn’t get out of there, fast enough. I came home and whipped up dinner, without a recipe or anything. Just from memory only. The one that does not really exist anymore. I made your daddy and brothers, homemade Shepard’s Pie. Your daddy said it was the best one I had ever made and wanted to know what I had done differently. I wanted to tell him how the only thing I did differently was cry the entire time I was making it because I couldn’t stop thinking about how you wouldn’t be there, to eat it with us. Sitting down, at our dinner table with your seat, empty is also something that just kills me. So, I may have made dinner, but I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough for the plans I had made a few days in advance.

I spent Friday night with some girls which I never take the time to do anymore either. We didn’t go out, but rather stayed in, instead. I picked up Mandy Bee and we headed out to Kristi’s house for a special night which of course was inspired by you. The best nights, always are. I know you were there, I know you saw and that’s all I’m saying about our night, for now. It was a true rock and roll night, in the most innocent way possible. It was a night that for as painful as it was, I actually felt myself having fun. Thank you, K…. for such a wonderful night. I don’t get those very often anymore. It was nice to let everything slide away for a bit and get lost in a world of beauty parlors, some good reality T.V. laughs, and a little blood, too;) And Mizpah, Mandy Bee. Thank you. I love you my crazy stalker bestie. Thank you for not being afraid of the dark with me. No matter how scary it gets. And for breaking down my door when I won’t pick up the phone, the lights are off, the doors are barricaded shut but you somehow manage to break them down anyway. I know you didn’t know him, but how I wish you would have. Thank you for loving him like you did.

I don’t know what happened today except for we all slept in and that seemed to throw everything off. I woke up, did the big breakfast thing with your daddy and brothers, threw up, showered, and ran out to get your daddy’s car washed just to get out of the fucking house full of loud T.V. and noise. I ran to Smart and Final to stock up your brothers drinks for their school lunches. I had a panic attack in the parking lot and had the urge to do something really self-destructive. Anything. I seriously contemplated driving to the nearest bar to get shit faced drunk. And I don’t even drink, Ronan. But I wanted something, anything, to make this pain go away even if just for a short amount of time. I wanted a break or to feel something differently, than this. Anything. I sat, cried, almost did…..but did not. Self destruct or self control? Today, self-control won. I am scared for the day that it will not. I came home exhausted from the hour I spent crying, fell into bed and drifted in and out of sleep for the next 4 hours. I hid in our bed, until the bright sun disappeared and I had enough of dreaming the dreams where all I can seem to do, is cry and scream in them. I feel like I live in between two worlds. One of real reality and one of fake reality. They both suck and I can’t win either way. The dreams I dream of always involve watching myself cry due to this nightmare. Happiness does not exist, anywhere without you, Ronan. At least not for me…. not even in my dreams.

Alright baby boy. This is enough for tonight. I wish I had something happier to say… an ounce of hope to give you…. a glimmer of the happiness that I hope to one day be able to feel again. But this is me, today. This is the best I can do. I guess just be proud that I am here and I didn’t drive off the cliff that I made up in my head today. I love you so much. I miss you every second of every day. I hope you are safe.

xoxo

Dear Lovely Little Blog Readers,

Thank you. For sticking with me. For hugging your kids tighter. For appreciating everything in your life, so much more than you did before you knew Ronan and our story. Thank you for helping me keep him alive by thinking about him, loving him, and letting him make you all better people. It keeps me going even during my darkest hours. I wish you all only health and happiness in 2012. Because we all know if health exists, then happiness does too. I love you. Ronan loves you. Please be safe! No drinking and driving!

xoxo

There’s nothing like muddy boots on a rainy day

Ronan. I don’t know what happy feels like anymore. But being back here, is the closest thing to happy I’ve felt since losing you. It’s no secret. I’m a Washington girl at heart. I love everything about the Pacific Northwest. I think it’s one of the most beautiful places on the planet. I really needed to get out of Arizona and the forever bright, sunny skies and fake plastic trees. I needed some rain, gloom, and mud. I needed some down time without feeling the never-ending pressure of being busy and on the go. I needed to get away from the sociopathic “friend,” that I cannot seem to escape. I needed room to breathe. I miss it here. I’ve been hiding out though. Spending time with just your brothers, Nana, and Papa Jim. Normally, I would make time to see all the old familiar faces that I miss so much. But I’ve been too scared. I know what I look like and it’s not pretty. It’s sad and painful. I would rather keep sad and painful to myself. I’ve haven’t really left your Nana and Papa’s house. Except to run the lake. This has been my only escape. The rain has been constant, just the way I like it. I’m going to be sad to leave and get back to the sun that constantly seems to be blinding me. I am glad we came and I am glad we had the best time possible. We all missed you though. That never goes away no matter where we go.

Tonight, your brothers and I went to dinner with Nana and Papa. I’m trying to keep my meal down but I don’t think it’s going to happen. We stopped at the lake after dinner. I told your brothers how when I ran the lake today, I stopped and swung on the swings. I asked if they wanted to swing tonight in the cold, dark, rainy weather. They said they did so we had Papa Jim pull over and let us out of the truck. We ran around on the playground together. They were so excited as the playground equipment is all new and it had lots of fun things to play on. I dared Quinn to go down the big slide even though it was soaking wet. He did. Liam followed and ran around shouting how he was “The King of the WORLD!!!!!!!” as he climbed to some tall tower. We all talked about how much you would have gone crazy on this playground. I was able to put my sadness for you, away in my little back pocket for the 15 minutes that we played. I chased your brothers. I pushed them on the swings. I ran around with them. It reminded me of how much I love them. I mean, I know this Ronan. But when going through something like this, pain overshadows everything and it makes it hard to feel like you are able to feel love again. It might be the protection mode I have gone into as well. There was nobody closer than the two of us and then you got sick and died. I have put up a wall as it seems to be instinctual to me, to protect myself from getting hurt again. This wall was invisible tonight. It disappeared. I watched your brothers and seeing how happy they were, running around late at night, with just me, made everything else disappear. It was a good reminder that I have done such a good job with them so far, and I don’t want to fuck that up anymore than I already have. I want to be a better mama to them. I want to not be so sad all the time. I want to be thankful that I have them. They are everything to me. They deserve to have a mom who has fun with them. It’s been on this trip that I have found that part of myself again. Being here, changes everything. I just hope I don’t lose it again when we head back to AZ. Being here reminds me of how the simple things in life, really are the best. Childhood should not be about watching sports on T.V. and playing video games. It should be about jumping in mud puddles, getting dirty and not caring. It should be about going on trail walks, awesome playgrounds, shooting guns, playing in tree houses, learning about nature, spending time with your grandparents and a little girl named BriBri who is like my little sister. Who I have known since she was 5 and she is now 17. I was so scared to see her. She loved you so much, Ro and you loved her even more. I didn’t even try to hide it. As soon as I saw her, I jumped on her and fell into her arms. I held her and got teary eyed. She didn’t have to say anything…. I know she is broken into a million pieces too. It was hard for me to see. I was always her older sister who was going to protect her from everything in the world. And now this. She has to watch me, go through the worst thing possible. I’m so sorry for that. Our sisterly time together was always spent talking about boys, colleges, high school, make-up, movies, and everything we did revolved around you 3 boys. Now it’s just 2 and it is so wrong that we don’t know what to do. I tried my best to ask her things about her life that are going on. I used to be able to give her the best sisterly advice. Now, I know nothing because there are no guarantees in life, except for death. I am not about to sit and talk to my innocent 17-year-old sissy about that. I used to be so much fun. I used to be “cool” to her. Now I’m just the sad mom who lost the most beautiful boy in the world. I’m the sad mom who fought for 8 months taking care of her cancer baby. I’m changed. I’m different. But the bond between us two girls will always be there. Once you love someone with all of your heart, nothing can stand in the way of that. We will find our place back together again. Baby steps. It’s just so hard because I know deep down, all we want to do is curl up together and cry. And that might have to happen at some point to just get it out there and acknowledge what has happened. The most awful thing in the world that makes people so uncomfortable and sad, that they would rather just not talk about it. I get it. I love you Boo. I will forever think of you as my little sister. I will promise to try to take care of you like I used to. I won’t let this too much reality, come between us. And you are 17 now! So crazy! You are so young, beautiful, and have your whole life in front of you. I know you are going to do amazing things. I hope I can guide you the best I am capable of. I miss that so much.

And today. 12.29.2011, it’s been 10 years. 10 years since I married my best friend. A relationship that started off on a crazy night. A relationship that I knew on our first date, that I was going to marry him. We bonded over late night dance parties to his juke box. Playing Zelda for sometimes weeks when we had off breaks from school. We were both night owls and loved to sleep in late. Our love for concerts and music. His, Pearl Jam. Mine, Prince. But I ended up converting over to Pearl Jam and became just as crazy for them as he was. We were two young kids, who were crazy for each other from the beginning. Here we are 10 years later. It seems like just yesterday that I married my Woo. We had such big plans for our 10 year. Tomorrow, I’ll be in an airport coming home late at night to him. Tomorrow, will just be another day. So it is tonight that I will tell him some things. And I know I don’t talk about him a lot on here and that is mostly because this is about my adventure with Ronan and my pain and sadness. Some things are too sacred to me still….. such as him. I also know that my husband is my best kept secret and I’d like to keep him that way. Could you imagine all the hussies that would try to go after him if they knew how amazing he really is??? I am not up for dealing with skanky bitches at the moment. Because if word got out, that a real life prince charming existed, I would be screwed. But he does. It is him. I married him. He is the best thing that has ever been mine. I’m not going to lie….. this has been super hard on both of us, individually. As a couple, we are still doing o.k. Not great, but that’s just because we are always so sad. But he still opens my car doors, he still kisses me goodnight, he still tells me I’m beautiful and he loves me. I’m the asshole. I’m the asshole who pushes away as I don’t think I’m worthy of feeling his love because I feel like everything is my fault. And he is the last person in the world who deserved any of this. I have a lot of guilt and anger that I am dealing with and sometimes I take it out on my easiest target, which is the person who loves me most. HIM. He is a saint. He is a gem. He is the truest, most honest, thoughtful, caring, brilliant, charming, and witty man on the planet. I sometimes take him for granted because I get stuck in my head that I can’t feel any of the things he so badly wants to give me again because you died, Ro. I hate that I have to admit all of this shit to you all. I wish I could tell you I am just as amazing as him, but I’m not. Not even close. I’m the asshole. And I’m so sorry Woody. I’m crazy about you. I love you so much. I am so sorry we had to lose our little boy. I’ll never stop telling you I’m sorry. But I’ll never stop telling you I love you either. I know we are fine. But fine is not good enough. I know we can get back to a somewhat happy life again because we started this together, crazy in love, and that’s never changed. Not even after going through something as awful as this.

O.k. Stopping now. I don’t want to completely mortify my husband who prefers to keep things a little more quiet and private. I’m an open book and I am so glad he is o.k. with that. He must really love me to put up with me and the shit I write on here:) I don’t think many husbands would tolerate that. So thank you Wood. For after 10 years of marriage, you still make me want to be a better person. Everyday. That’s how I knew you were the one for me when we first starting dating. You made me want to be the best version of myself that I could be. That is powerful stuff right there. You know it’s true when the other person can inspire such greatness in you. I love you to the moon and back. Again, I am so very sorry. I know how much you miss him too. I would give anything to bring him back to you. We are going to be o.k. I promise to try to not be such an asshole. I promise to try to start living the way Ronan would have wanted me to. But I know when the sadness comes, you will be there to hold my hand. I will try not to push you away so much. I love you Woo. I love you Ro. We both hope you are safe. We are both sorry. You were perfect to us. You were our everything to this entire family. We are trying, baby. The stakes are high, this waters rough, but this love is ours.

G’nite my spicy monkey boy. I love you.

xoxo

Hell is empty and all the Devils are here

Ronan. Cancer is stupid. And people are stupid. I try to ignore the stupid people of the world the best I can but sometimes they get under my skin. I try not to let them but as it turns out, I’m still human. For as dead as I feel I guess I’m really not because I am still able to feel. I wish I really were a dead zombie. Then I wouldn’t be bothered by these stupid, ignorant people. I would just rip their hearts out and eat them and then maybe they would be able to feel a quarter of the pain that I feel on a daily basis. Only in Zombieland, right buddy. Sometimes the stupid people of the world say stupid things like, “You know, there are other mothers out their who have lost children. You’re not the only one.” My reply is, “Really? No shit, asshole.” Please hold on a minute while I punch you in the throat. It is as if they are trying to compare my pain, to somebody else’s. Or justify it by saying there is someone else out there, who has it worse. I am not ignorant. I am aware of the other people out there who have lost their children. But guess what? They didn’t have a Ronan. So there is no comparing or justifying. You were mine and therefore, nobody else knows what this is like. I don’t care if they too, have lost a child. This pain is my own, this sadness is my own, this experience is my own. I would never tell another parent, “Oh, I know exactly how you feel.” Because I don’t. I understand some aspects of it. I can relate but to each his own. I am learning to be respectful of that for others going through this process. I’m still new at this game but this is something that I have learned. Unless you had a Ronan, you don’t fully know.

I survived Christmas? I survived Christmas. It was brutal. I took some time in the morning, before I got up and just cried for you. After that, I was able to go downstairs to watch your brothers open gifts and enjoy Christmas the way 8 year olds should. It was as nice as it could possibly be. All that mattered is I was able to get out of bed and watch as your brothers smiled, giggled, and laughed. I lasted a couple of hours but then the pain became too much and I had to retreat up to my old bedroom where you and I spent all last summer cuddling and whispering secrets to each other. I passed out for a few hours. I dreamed of you. This is the second time in a month that I have seen you in my dreams. They are never pleasant and it is always the same theme. You looking at me. I’m trying to save you, but I can’t. I know you are dying, but you always look peaceful. Thanks for that, little man. My heart was extra heavy on Christmas for another mama. Another mama who wrote to me a few days before Christmas to tell me thank you. I was sick to my stomach after her email. I don’t want a thank you from another mama because her baby girl died of Neuroblastoma. She died on December 7th, this year. This mama told me it was because of what I had written about you after you passed away, that she was able to tell her Charlotte all the things she wanted to say, right before she died. I don’t remember what I wrote about you and I don’t want to know. I guess I am glad it helped somebody else although I wish I didn’t have to. I wish I could give her Charlotte back. I told her I was sorry. I wish I had some wise words for her. I didn’t. Sorry was the best I could do. She told me how she just wants to be with Charlotte. I told her I knew. Oh, how I know.

Yesterday, I spent the day in Portland with your daddy. You know how Portland is one of my favorite cities. It was a nice day. We grabbed lunch. I ate a bit of soup but that was all I could manage to keep down. We talked. But not about normal things anymore. Our talk revolved around everything cancer. I played the game that I am so good at playing now which is we didn’t choose the right treatment. If we did, Ronan would still be here. Should we have done this? Should we have done that? We picked the wrong treatment for him. He insists that we did not. He insists the outcome would have been the same, no matter what. I still don’t believe him. But I guess I have little credibility due to being the irrational broken-hearted mama. I don’t need credibility though. I just need someone to figure out this fucking disease. I need the doctors to get a clue as to what it is they are doing so little kids don’t have to sit around playing russian roulette. I’m not stopping until this changes Ro. I promised you that. After the talk about you we moved on to other fun things like Coach Bemis. The coach in AZ who has Stage IV lung cancer and he is NOT a smoker. We moved on to Katie who is the beautiful 15-year-old girl with Rhabdomyosarcoma. We talked about Charlotte, Will, Dr. Sholler, Dr. Mosse, etc….. We will never be the normal couple again who goes to lunch and talks about the weather. We both agreed that this world is fucked. But we left there, holding hands and we’re not letting go. We know what we have to do.

We walked the streets of 23rd for a while. We passed a boy playing his guitar. He was really good. He had his guitar case open so people could throw money in it. He looked to be around 15. He had a sign sitting in his guitar case. It wasn’t the normal sign that read something like, “Help me, I’m hungry.” It simply said, “Help Fight Boredom.” I smiled and laughed as we passed this boy. I looked at your daddy. I had your daddy give me a couple of bucks and I turned around and walked back to this boy. I threw it into his case as well as your little card and your “All good things are wild and free,” bracelet. He said thanks and continued to play. I caught back up to your daddy and we started to walk. I noticed the boys’ guitar playing had stopped. I turned around to watch him read your bracelet. I watched from a far as he read it. He looked up and waved to me, the girl in the yellow coat. I waved back. That boy made me happy today. He reminded me of you. I hope he never gets cured of his boredom. I hope he remains curious to the world and follows his dreams. I hope he has a mom and a dad who know how lucky they are, to have him. I hope he is safe. I hope he is o.k. I hope he is wild and free. This is what I hoped today, Ronan. It felt nice.

Dear lovely little blog reader: I will address your questions but only because you have pissed me off and I am feeling extra spicy today. Here goes dolly.

Why is it ok to take Ambien, but not an anti-depressant? I think you are being slightly hypocritical. You need something to get out of the abyss you are in – other than your youngest son, which, while totally un-fucking fair, will not happen. The fact that you didn’t care if your older sons’ had winter coats speaks volumes. Christmas Eve and you hadn’t bought your twins any presents??? You need some help. You think you might need to check into a hospital…what do you think they are going to do there? I’ll tell you, they will load you up with anti-depressants. They will monitor your food intake and your vomiting. You will lose the control you so relish. The choices will be taken away from you.

You need to talk to a physician. Your constant vomiting is obviously not healthy – don’t your other sons deserve the same mom that lovingly helped her youngest son? While I’m not suggesting you are bulemic, have you ever read what constant vomiting does to your body, your throat, your teeth? Or is this part of your “danger” crusade?

No, I have never lost a child, so I’m sure that will make you totally disregard my opinion, but do you ever re-read your posts? You are on the edge and if you don’t get some perspective, you are going to fall off. Where will that leave your already devastated family?

It is NOT o.k. to take Ambien. For me anyway. I think this drug is the devil. Obviously you are a new reader and have not read all of my posts, therefore you are the one being hypocritical. I talk about this all this time. I hate myself for the fact that I sometimes have to take this drug in order to sleep. Not all the time, but it is during the times that I am struggling the most, when I know the lack of sleep is going to make the crack, so I give in and just take it to get some fucking sleep. It makes me feel mentally weak. It makes me feel like a loser. It makes me feel a lot of things that I hate but sometimes I need a break from the pain and sleep for a solid 6 hours seems to help. This is not always the case and I am proud of the nights that I don’t have to take anything at all. I try every night, not to take that drug but as I said before, sometimes I need a break.

Why is everyone so bothered by me not getting on the antidepressant band wagon? SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! If it helps other people, great! But it’s not for me. I did the anti depressant thing for about 6 months and it only made things worse. I have tried it, and I didn’t like it. END OF STORY. The abyss I am in is called my son just died 7 months ago. I am so sorry you are so bothered by this inconvenience. I am so sorry that you are so bothered by the fact that I didn’t care about my twins’ winter fucking coats and Christmas presents this year. Lady, are you high?!?! Are you on crack? Are you even a parent? Probably not. If you are, I am scared for you. The fact that you think the above things above are a big deal, in the grand scheme of things, disturbs me. I’m a good mom. I know this. I will never second guess this and anybody that truly knows me, wouldn’t either. Even if I didn’t go out and buy winter coats or Christmas presents this year. I think I deserve a fucking hall pass for this first Christmas, don’t you? I don’t care if you do or not. I’m taking it.

And no. I do not re read my posts. For obvious reasons. Maybe you should go back to the beginning and read them all though, before you judge and spew your words of concern. I’m going to go now. I’m off to go skydiving while I throw up my breakfast to continue my “danger crusade.” Opps. I didn’t eat breakfast today which must mean I’m anorexic. Clearly. I am aware what this constant vomiting does to my body. I’m not proud of this but it’s not something I can control right now. I guess having a dead son will do that to you. I hope the hospital that I am going to check myself into, can bring him back so it will stop. Have a lovely day, thanks for your concern but I think you need to go back and reread what you wrote and try a little harder to put yourself in my shoes. This is not a dog we are talking about, dying. It is a child. It was my son. It is not something a fucking pill can make better. Or a hospital. G’day lovely little blog reader.

Ro baby. I love you. To the moon and back. I miss you. I hope you are safe. I hope you are wild and free.

xoxo

There’s a band named Starfucker? Awesome.

http://youtu.be/xxFbl6fMErg

Walmart Bike Riding, yo!

Adam Spofford owns a laptop. And meet Gary.

Ronan. A few things have happened since I’ve last written. I’ll start with Gary. Gary the stuffed animal that I bought for you in Starbucks. Gary who I didn’t tell anyone about, except for Dr. JoRo. I was waiting to board the plane with your Daddy and brothers. I was so sad. I didn’t want to get on the plane. I was sitting down. Quinn came and sat next to me. He saw Gary in my purse. He pulled him out and asked what he was and said he smelled like coffee. I told Quinn, that I had bought him for you. I said to Quinn, “Ronan would have liked him, don’t you think?” He smiled and said yes. I asked Quinn what you would have named him. I watched as Quinn got nervous and his little eyes started to tear up. He said he didn’t know. He didn’t want to answer me. He kept looking at the ground. I pushed him and told him just to think of the first name that popped into his head. He took a minute to answer me. He shyly looked up at me and goes, “I don’t know. Maybe Gary.” I thought I was hearing things. I said to him, “That’s exactly what I named him!” I grabbed Quinny’s face and kissed his lips. I told him I loved him. I took it as a sign from you, that I had to get on the airplane and go. During mid-flight, I could hear your daddy and Liam laughing behind us. They started handing us little post it notes that somebody had left in their in flight magazine. The post it notes said things like, “LOSER.” a game of tic-tac-toe was played. Hearts were drawn. But the best one said, “Adam Spofford owns a laptop. This is his laptop. It sucks.” xoxo- a friend. I don’t know why, but these little post it notes from a previous flyer, probably a 10-year-old girl, made us laugh. And trust me, we really needed to laugh. I made it though the flight. Quinn slept on me. Everything in my body hurt. The memories came flooding back of all the flights I taken with you and how sick you were. The memory came flooding back of our last flight together. How you could hardly move because you were in so much pain. I tried to push these memories out of my head. But they are here to stay. Forever. I know this.

We landed really late. Around midnight. It’s our first time to Nana and Papa’s, without you. Painful beyond words. But as I said before, necessary. Everything is so pretty. Nana made sure you are everywhere. Her tree is done up all purple just for you. Your stocking is hanging in between Liam and Quinn’s, just like it should be. Gifts bursting out of it. Your pictures are still all over her house, just as they have always been. Everything is the same, yet different. Nana’s house is perfectly sparkly, warm, cozy, and so welcoming. She has always been so good at this as I know, we are all her whole world. The house is full of laugher, despite you being gone. Not from me but from your brothers and Papa Jim. The never-ending goofing off and playing games that is going on is all too familiar. It’s just the way it has always been. I miss your giggles the most though. It is so obvious they are missing.

We drove to the beach yesterday to go clam digging. I slept most of the way as your Papa Jim drove us. I closed my eyes and thought of you almost the whole way there. I knew exactly where you would have sat, what you would have worn, the things that you would have said. The entire car ride would have been completely different. I know all of this. We arrived to the beach where we were greeted by the cold, wet weather. My favorite. I got out of the car and helped your brothers get all bundled up. We ran out to the ocean in our rubber boots. The tide was out really far and it was drizzling rain. I was playing with Liam. A small wave came chasing after us. A small wave that was much bigger than I had thought. We both ran but it caught up to us. I watched as Liam’s boots were flooded with water and he got soaking wet. I did as well. Within the first 15 minutes, we both had soggy boots and wet jeans. I laughed as I knew if you had been with us, you would have been drenched as well. I took Liam back to the truck and changed his socks but the damage was done…. once your boots are wet, forget about it. We toughed it out for the next hour but we were soon frozen. We headed back to the truck and watched as your daddy, Quinn, and Papa Jim dug for clams. They didn’t get a single one but it didn’t matter. It was all about the adventure and letting them make the happy memories they deserve. Our drive home was long. We played games in the car. I looked out the window and was reminded of why I love it here so much. There is something so peaceful about the Pacific Northwest. I decided that it was a really good thing, that we came here for Christmas. I needed to get away from the rat race of Phoenix. I needed a break. I needed some fresh air. I needed to breathe. I feel like I am suffocating in AZ. A change of scenery has been good, for as hard as I thought it was going to be….. it isn’t as bad as I had anticipated. We all needed this.

I spent this morning with your daddy. I think he was a little worried that we didn’t have gifts for your brothers. He woke me up early to get out of the house. I put up a fight about going out as I just wanted to stay in bed all day. I didn’t. I got up and showered. We ran into town. There are 3 choices when it comes to shopping in this little town. The closest one being Super Walmart. It was totally a Super Walmart kind of day. We roamed the aisles. I got mad. I got sad. I think I told him everything was stupid when I turned down an aisle and saw EVERYTHING STAR WARS. I walked off. I found some 3 wheeled bike in the middle of the bike aisle that was not attached to anything. It had an awesome basket on it. I started riding it around the store. I instantly felt better. Your daddy found me and gave me one of his, “What in the world are you doing looks?” I just smiled and told him I wanted to buy the bike. He knows I’m ridiculous and told me to come with him as he had found some things for your brothers. He led me over to the weapon aisle. Weapons. Now this is something I can get behind. He showed me some Airsoft Guns he thought they would like. You would have liked them too. I think they are kind of like bb guns, only safer. Maybe. I’m not really sure but they look like fun. I told him sure. Whatever. I started roaming the aisle for other treats. I grabbed a Machete and put it in the cart. Your daddy gave me the look again. I told him I needed the machete. He told me I indeed, did not need a machete. He told me to put it back and he would buy me my own Air Gun for Christmas. Fine I said. I put it back although I didn’t want to. I could have cut down a lot of wilderness with that Machete and protected us from the zombies that lurk about. When it Rome…….
The rest of the day was spent playing. I played outside with your brothers and Papa Jim. We played hide and seek. We played basketball. We played. I laughed. I cried. I missed you. I went into town and ran the lake. Tomorrow is Christmas. Fucking Fuck. I’m still here. I don’t think I’m going to die. I wondered this last night though. I wondered if the pain from loving you so much and missing you so much, will actually kill me. Or if the pain from loving you so much and missing you so much, will get me though this. Will it kill me or just make me stronger? I don’t want to be stronger. I don’t want to be strong. I just want you back.
I have to go now. Merry Christmas Eve baby doll. I’m so sorry. I miss you so much. I hope you are safe.
xoxo
And P.S. little lovely overly concerned blog readers. No. NO. No. I’m not going to go on anti-depresents. So stop encouraging it. If it works for you, lovely. But it’s not my cup of tea. I’m doing this alone. Solo. I don’t want any help from a stupid little pill that will not make my dead son, come back. If someone can invent a pill that will bring him back, I would take it in a heartbeat. Unless this is the case, I’m not interested. But thanks for your concern. Merry Fucking Christmas!

I don’t have a choice. I have to go.

Ronan. You’re dead? You’re dead. I’m here. Still here. Because of the someone who is behind all of this. The person who behind all of this, who is not being merciful to me. So here I stay. Blurry, blurry days. A trip we must take. No. No. NO. But yes. Me, the everything must be perfect before we go on a trip. The suitcases packed perfectly to a tee. Never to forget a thing. Everything thought out and so perfectly planned. I lived for packing you and your brothers up for our upcoming travels. So perfect. Even our house. The house. All beds made. Laundry done. Dishes put away. In case we get robbed while we are away. I wouldn’t want the robbers to come into a messy house. This is how my mind used to work. The anal mind that used to control part of my life. Now your daddy, just stares at me from the bedroom. “You need to pack. And the boys’ don’t have winter coats.” But I don’t want to go and I don’t care about the winter coats, I think to myself. “I’m not packing. I’m not packing the boys either.” Your daddy, the best daddy in the world, steps up to the plate. “I’ll pack the boys,” he says. “And I’ll take them out to buy coats.” I just look at him. “I’m sick to my stomach. I think I have the flu. I think I need to go to the hospital.” Your daddy kisses my head and leaves. I lay in bed. My jewish sister from another mother appears. She comes bursting through our front door with her arms full of homemade brisket, potatoe latkes, gifts for the boys, and silver sparkly disco sunglasses on. She yells at me from the front room. I peek out from my bed. “I’m here to take care of you, feed you and to dance for you.” I smile my fake smile. “Cut the BULLSHIT smile!!” she says. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say because nothing that I say, will make this better. But I can dance for you.” She dances and jumps on my bed. She makes me put on the sparkly disco sunglasses. “I haven’t packed. I have laundry to do. I can’t do any of it.” “Well!!!!!!! That’s what I’m here for. I’ll pack you.” I say o.k. I eat some food. I watch as she grabs things to pack. “A couple pairs of jeans, your F U Cancer sweatshirt, your spirit hood, some workout clothes, some boots, underwear, pajamas, running shoes, some tee-shirts…… what else, mama?” “Nothing else,” I say. Nothing else. We sit in our living room. We watch some gun show on T.V. without the volume because I can’t figure out how to turn the sound on. That’s how much I watch T.V. now. Mandy Bee rubs my back. I let her while I listen to the 15 voice mails I have on my phone. All of which I have been ignoring. We light the menorah that sits in our window. We put your picture by it. Mandy Bee says her jewish prayer. I like it. I like the way your little face lights up in the picture from the flickering of the candles. Mandy Bee leaves. But then she comes back. “I’m not leaving you.” I crawl back into bed. She leaves. I throw up. Your daddy and brothers return. Quinn and I crawl up in Liam’s top bunk bed. We fall asleep. Ambien induced for me.

Morning comes. I ignore everything that there is to do, around the house. I shower. I throw up. I feed your brothers. Max and Ruby, comes on T.V. Fucking Fuck. Your favorite show. I throw up, again. I get your brothers in the shower. They are going to play at Cal’s house. We stop at the car wash before I drop them off. I hold their hands. I laugh and smile with them. I miss you. I drop them off. Little Heather, texts me. “Meet me at PVCC for a quick bite.” I do. I eat a grilled cheese and see all your little friends at day camp. I cry. I listen to little Heather, talk about so many things. I get lost in her world for a bit. She is good at letting me do that, without letting you get lost because she knows, it is always about you, even when LIFE is not. As LIFE, goes on for others. She embraces the you in everything that goes on and she didn’t even know you. I appreciate this. I leave little Heather but not before, Sam, her little boy, comes flying into my arms for a hug and a kiss on the lips. I smile at him and the way he reminds me of you. I drive to Dr. Jo’s but I stop at Starbucks before. I run to the bathroom and throw up everything. I brush my teeth, wipe my face and wait in line. I see a bucket full of the cutest little stuffed animals. I thought to myself, Ronan would love this. I panic. OMG. I didn’t buy Ro a gift for Christmas. I grab the stuffed animal. I start to cry. I wipe the tears and buy the little guy. I stuff him in my purse. I get to Jo’s office. I wait in the waiting room, but I really just set my coffee down and bury my head into my arms and cry. I don’t know how long I waited before she came out. 15 minutes maybe. She finds me and I make my way back to her office, only to fall on the floor and not the couch. We sit there, and I look at her. “Ronan’s dead?? Ronan died, right?? He’s dead?” She holds me and nods her head. “O.k.” I say. “Ronan is dead.” We sit. I cry. I look around her office. I see your picture. She asks if I remember her telling me that it was about 6 months after Chey passed away, that were the hardest for her. That the 6-12 months after, seem to actually be harder. I told her I didn’t remember. But I feel this way, now. I tell her I think I need to go to the hospital. I tell her how I can’t breathe. She is quiet and does not entertain my thoughts of a hospital. She doesn’t want that for me. She knows I am stronger than that; I think. We talk about what’s been going on. Halloween. Thanksgiving. Sucksgiving. Christmas. A birthday soon. The list goes on and on and on. I pulled out the stuffed animal and show her what I bought for you. She asked me what you would have named him. I tell her something silly, like Gary. We name him Gary. I look at her and say to her, “I don’t have a choice, right? I have to get on that airplane tonight and go?” She replies with, “Do you have a choice?” I tell her, No. I have to do this for Liam and Quinn. She says it is a sacrifice of love for them. I agree. I don’t want to go home. Back to the place that was our peace. Our solitude. Our paradise, without you. I have not been back, since right before you were diagnosed. It was the last place I spent with you, when you were “healthy,” but really had Stage IV cancer. I don’t want to but I don’t have a choice. I have to go back, someday. Your brothers are so excited. I tell her I’ll fake it, for them. I have to continue to fake this, for now as to not ruin their Christmas. We say our goodbyes. I ask her if her kids are coming up to Sedona. She replies with they are. “Well, all of them except the dead one.” I burst out laughing. That dark sense of humor that I so get. She tells me that Chey gets the top of the Christmas tree, every year. She tells me, that she is not a fan of these holidays either. I know why. I tell her I’m off to the airport to watch happy families everywhere, going to happy places. I’m going to ignore these families this year and pretend everyone has a dead child too. I used to be that happy family, chasing you through the airport with not a care in the world. Fucking asshole cancer. I leave her office, feeling better than when I had arrived.

I go home to a quiet house. I go into crazed mode, packing, cleaning, laundry, beds stripped, dishwasher unloaded. Robot mode. Survival mode. Instinct. Memory. This is what you do, so suck it up and do it. We get to the airport. 4 not 5. Where are you? Bags checked. “Woody, can you watch my things? I have to go to the bathroom.” I go. I throw up. I am so fucking nauseous.

I gotta go baby. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.

xoxo

I hope it’s nice where you are

http://youtu.be/3b1RjGYI1-g

 

Somebody wake me up when this bloody holiday is over.

Ronan. I am really, really hoping that I am not truly losing my mind from the pain of losing you. I am really, really, hoping that this pain, which is already intolerable, only feels as if as if it is on steroids, just due to the fact that Christmas is almost here. I am trying hard to be logical about this. Who cares about stupid Christmas? Why is it because Christmas is here, that it is making this 10 times harder than normal? I have been doing a lot of talking to myself because Inferno Fuckwad Bob is trying to completely take over. I had this conversation in my head tonight about how much pressure the holidays bring anyway when you are a normal human being. Now, try doing these holidays when your child is dead. I am trying not to panic about the many reactions my body is having…… which I swear I have no control over. The throwing up. The blurry vision. The headaches. The insomnia. The racing of my heart. The shaking of my hands. The way I can’t seem to breathe. The way every part of my body hurts. Even the tips of my fingers. I feel like I should be admitted to a hospital. Can’t they sedate me and put me on oxygen, too? So I can breathe a little more easily? Can’t they just put me to sleep for about a week? I deserve a little break from this or else I am going to crack. Maybe I am starting to crack and these are the warning signs.

No amount of physical exhaustion is helping either. And it normally does. This morning I got up early and met Mandy Bee for a workout at some place she goes. I don’t remember much of it except we did a lot of picking up heavy tires, ropes, and punched a boxing bag. Afterwords, I was shaky and I hopped in her car as she talked me into going to Starbucks. I think she was really afraid to let me up and just drive home as I know she saw the sheer look of terror in my eyes. She drove me to Starbucks but she had to pull over right in front so I could run into the bathroom because I told her I was going to throw up. I did. A whole lot of liquid as I had nothing else in my stomach. I brushed my teeth in that Starbucks bathroom as I now carry a toothbrush with me everywhere because I am so used to this happening. We sat outside and drank our coffee and made small talk with some south african guy. The small talk turned into the how many kids do you have, question. I let Mandy answer first. My turn next. Lucky me. “Two eight year olds. And an almost 4-year-old who just passed away.” Good thing the dude was wearing sunglasses so I didn’t have to see the look in his eyes. I’ll never get used to saying this to people when they ask this question to me now. I always take a minute to answer and think to myself….”There has got to be a better way, to say this.” Turns out, there is not. It will never just roll off of my tongue.

I found myself on my bedroom floor today, huddled in the corner of my room and on the phone with Dr. JoRo, bawling so hard I don’t think she could even understand much of what I was saying. I told her how I couldn’t breathe, how I wanted to just go to sleep, and how tired I was of everything. I stayed this way for about 10 minutes. I then told her I had to go because it was time to be a mom and I was taking your brothers rock climbing. I had to play the good mommy role and suck it up. All I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and not come out. I didn’t though. I sucked it up and pulled myself together as they were so excited to be off and doing something with me. We went with Kristi and her gorgeous girls. I loved watching your brothers as they tried something new. I tried not to let the fact that you weren’t there with us, ruin everything. I made myself climb to the top of that rock wall today. Actually, Kristi really made me do it as I was content to just sit and watch your brothers. I was glad she did. I was halfway up and decided to turn around and look down. Bloody hell it was high up there. I almost stopped and turned around. A vision of your face flashed in front of me and I looked up and made myself continue on, to the very top until I touched the metal little pole that proved I did it. I know you were proud. As Kristi said, one more thing on my little list, checked off. I thought to myself…… yes indeed. But I wondered how long I could really keep all of this up. I’m still glad to have that little check mark off of my list. I did it for you and for your brothers. Because they deserve to have a mom who hasn’t completely checked out. I know I am being hard on myself but I also know that your brothers saw me as I cried in the car all the way home. I wish I could hide my pain from them all the time, but sometimes it is impossible. It is so hard to look them in the eyes when it is so visible to them, that I am hurting so badly. No 8-year-old should have to watch their mama wiping away the never-ending tears. But no 8-year-old should have to ever watch their best friend and baby brother, die of cancer either. It is all fucking bullshit.

We came home tonight to your daddy. I ran to the bathroom where I threw up the dinner I tried to eat. I took a bath and crawled into bed. Your daddy, sat with me and just held my hand while I stared blankly at the wall as the hot stinging tears poured down my cheeks and soaked my pillow. He took your brothers out to run some errands. I fell asleep for about 30 minutes. I jumped up, startled, when my body realized that I had fallen asleep and reminded me of how wrong everything is in this life now, including things like sleep. No rest for the weary.

I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you so very much. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams, baby doll. I love you to the moon and back.

xoxo

For you, Ro. For me. For us. Because Neil is one of our favs.

http://youtu.be/dVC2cszdTao

  • Instagram is my BFF

    Beautiful words sent by my beautiful best friend on a very hard day. I love you @macywood_. I could not get through this life without you. #ronan #fucancer #beautifulwords #soulmates #sisterwives #loversforlife #thankyouro Meeeoowww. Hiding from the world. #ronan #fucancer #youcantfindme #bookporn #booksfordaaayyyssss #myhappyplace Where was the Gold for all the kids in September who are fighting cancer? Gee, thanks @todayshow. #ronan #beboldgogold #kidsgetcancertoo
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