Ronan. You Stink. You Smell like Beef and Cheese.

Ro baby. Hi. I love you. I miss you. For as often as I write to you, I still can’t get over the fact that I am writing to you because you are dead. This will never be o.k. with me. I will never get over this. I will never stop wishing this wasn’t my life.

Yesterday. I mean, really. Was yesterday really necessary? No. But we don’t live in a normal world anymore, so any kind of worry, becomes something major. Remember that CT/MRI scan Quinny had a couple of months ago? Your daddy followed up with a neurologist afterwords. They said it was nothing to worry about but we know that nothing to worry about will never exist again. They said they wanted to see us in 6 months just to be on the safe side. I got a call from PCH on Wednesday saying they actually wanted us to come in on Thursday for another MRI. They wanted to check the blood flow in Quinn’s brain. I, of course, freaked out. I was trying to drive to Dr. Jo’s office when I got the voicemail from PCH. I passed her office twice because that is how distraught I was over this voicemail. I showed up to Dr. Jo’s office, frazzled. I told her I was waiting to hear back from them to see if they were mistaken because the last I heard, we were supposed to come back in 6 months, not 2. I called Dr. Maze to ask him if he could figure out what was going on for me. Nobody could get a hold of the Neurologist to get to the bottom of what was going on. I told Dr. Maze we would just keep the appointment and do another MRI if that is what they wanted. I told him about Quinn and the way he has been blinking his eyes so much… kind of twitching. I told him how I had him at our pediatrician a few weeks ago and that I had mentioned this to her and she said it was probably due to his Type A personality and stress. But now I was convinced it was because he had a fucking brain tumor or something. Aubrey asked why I hadn’t told him this before. I told him because I have been watching it and didn’t want to make a big deal about it as Dr. Campbell told me it was due to Quinn’s anxiety. He told me to just come in so I could put my worry to rest. I didn’t argue.

I didn’t tell Quinn until Thursday morning, that we were going to have another test done. I downplayed it. I kept him home from school and told him it was because I wanted to have a day alone with him. I told him that I wanted to figure out why he was blinking his eyes so much, so were going to go down to PCH for another little test. I made it out to be not a big deal at all. We got to PCH and waited. My Mandy Bee came down to sit with us. She went back with us as Quinn went into the MRI machine. She rubbed my back and made me laugh by sticking ear plugs up her nose. She kept me from throwing up anymore than I had during the day. Quinn stayed calm while we waited in the loud, cold room with him. He was a little champ. As soon as we were done, we gathered up our things. Dr. Maze wasn’t there but I texted him after to tell him we were finished. He said he would call me after the techs read him the results. Mandy and I took Quinn to eat. I didn’t eat as I was too nervous but I sat and pretended that everything was fine as I waited for the phone to ring. It rang. I didn’t even get the chance to ask for the results as Dr. Maze told me that everything was fine before I could even say hello. There was nothing there. He was sorry that we had been put through this again because it wasn’t necessary. I thanked him. I wished it wasn’t necessary but as we know now, everything is necessary when one of your children gets cancer and dies from it. I came back inside to Mandy and Quinn. I told them both that everything was fine. Mandy sent me a secret text asking if everything really was fine. I told her yes. She asked me why I still had such a worried look on my face. I told her because my worry never goes away anymore. I worry about everything, Ronan. You. Quinn. Liam. Daddy. Mostly you.

I wrote the above a few days ago, little one. It’s been a long, hectic week and it took me some time to recover after Quinn’s 2nd MRI. I’ve been writing here and there to you…. but mostly I’ve just been back in my black hole.

Ronan. The Rabbit Hole. It’s a movie. It’s a movie with really good actors. It’s about a mama and a daddy who lose their 4-year-old boy. Not lose like lose him at the grocery store and then they find him 10 minutes later. Not lose like that time we lost Liam at Disneyland only to find him 5 minutes later. I so wish we had lost you at Disneyland only to find you again. I wonder if those parents, know how lucky they are. So, this Rabbit Hole movie. I don’t know why I even bothered tonight. I NEVER watch T.V. or movies anymore but I guess I was just wanting an escape. Leave it to me to go and watch a movie about something like a child dying. Defeats the whole purpose of my getting lost. I don’t know why I can’t just ever seem to take the easy route with things. I should have just put in a mindless comedy. Something that would maybe make me laugh for a second. I guess it was more curiosity than anything. I guess I was hoping Hollywood would get it right. I should have known better. They didn’t even scratch the surface, Ronan. Maybe if I were a normal mom, watching this under normal circumstances because all of my children were alive…. I would have felt differently tonight. If I would have watched this 2 years ago, when you were healthy, maybe I would have thought this movie was so gut wrenching and sad that I would have left the theatre a wreck. Tonight, I almost laughed out loud at some of the scenes. I was also so distracted the ENTIRE movie by Nicole Kidman’s overly plumped up lips. What do they use to inject lips with these days? Collagen?? I’m clueless to things like that but whatever it is…. all I have to say is WHY??? I could not focus on the movie because her lips distracted me the entire time. That lady is so pretty. She is so pretty without those pouty lips. They took away from her character. Hollywood botched that one fo’ shizzle. But they managed to throw in all the stereotypical things that you would assume parents go through when losing a child. The struggle with GOD. The stupid shit people say like, “God needed another angel.” “This was God’s plan.” “He’s safe because God is taking care of him.” Nicole Kidman did freak out in a scene where a god comment was made. It made me laugh because for .1 seconds, her character reminded me, of me. They went on to show the stress it puts on a marriage. No shit. Really???? The time frame of moving on and packing up a room and getting rid of clothes. The Grief Support Group. The friends leaving. The fights with family. YAY FOR HOLLYWOOD! You got it right on the generic surface level. Who wrote this movie? Did they not get any input from real parents who are surviving something like this?? I think not.

They left out so many things, Ronan. They left out how after you lose the most precious thing to you, how the world around you literally feels like it is caving in, every second of the day. How after each day you survive…. because it is only about survival in the beginning…..how you fall into bed, and pray to anyone who will listen, not to wake up. For somebody to have mercy on you because out living your child is not something you signed up for. What about the sleepless nights? What about the pacing around the house, constantly looking for you?? What about the days that you cannot even leave the house because you cannot stop throwing up? What about the obsessing about what you could have done, differently? What about the buckets of tears that are never-ending and you swear you are going to choke to death on them? What about the way you don’t ever escape your own head and how you wish for anything but this life? How you wish to be beaten, raped, tortured, burned alive….. how you would endure any kind of pain to have your child back?? What about the way that this reality is so much…. too much…. so some days you spend the entire day, pretending like your child is still alive because on those days knowing that they are dead, it is just too much to handle. What about they way you feel so alone, even though you are surround by the most loving people on earth. What about the shame, anger and guilt that want to destroy you. What about how everyday is a fight. How you feel like you are swimming against the tide, day after day. How you have to watch as the people who care about you, look at you with pity… worry… and sadness. How you long to feel things like happiness again and wonder if it will ever come. But then you also wonder if you even deserve it. They forget to portray how the most simple things, become so difficult. How even remembering to breathe, is a struggle. What about the physical pain? The way your entire body aches. The way your throat feels so tight and dry. They knots that are up and down your back. The way your head feels like it has been in a vice. How you watch as everyone around you, goes on with their lives and how hard it is to see. How everyone expects things from you and doesn’t understand why you can’t come to holiday celebrations, birthday parties, dinners, etc….. Please, somebody cut the bereaved parents out there s0me slack. How nobody understands how hard it is to just function, let alone deal with all the social pressure of “moving forward.” How nothing is normal anymore and everyone needs to stop acting like it is. How your dead child, is so easily forgotten and how people just seem to want to ignore the fact that they existed. As if this will erase the pain?? Never. How you are blinded by survival because that is all you are trying to do, is survive….. for as much as you don’t want to. Because I know if you are a mama or daddy who has lost a child, you have wished to not survive this a thousand times. They didn’t touch on what it is, that makes a bereaved parent, go on with life. Is it Fear? Hope? Love? Guilt? Beliefs? All of the above, maybe? I’m still trying to figure that one out.

Ro baby. Did you see us on Saturday? We brought a tree and decorations to PCH and decorated a tree, in your honor. It was the best tree, we’ve ever had. It was so hard to do. It is on the 7th Floor of PCH. The Oncology Floor. We saw Dr. Eshun and gave him a hug. I love that man. Kind eyes. Kind smile. Kind soul. He is not only a good doctor, but a good man in general. I am so very thankful he was the one who had the privilege of taking care of you. I know he will never forget you. Your Dr. Maze came up to see us. I tried to ignore the tears in his eyes as he gave your Daddy a hug. Fucking Mother Fucker Cancer. I hope your tree will make some kids, smile. I put some special Captain Rex’s in the tree, just for you. I love you. This would have been your favorite tree, ever. Why haven’t we always been decorating our Christmas trees, in a Star Wars Theme? It made so much sense on Saturday. I was mad at myself for conforming the years before with traditional trees. Why is it, because you are dead, that the tree we did for PCH, was our best tree ever? The most fun. The most like you and your brothers??

Alright little one. Much more to write, but I need to try to sleep. I am driving up to Sedona tomorrow to see Dr. JoRo so I need to try to sleep. We watched “Elf,” tonight with some friends at the Montelucia Resort. I missed you every second. I cried. Your daddy cried. Everything in that movie, reminds us of you. It was one of your favs. I used to love how you would always quote Buddy the Elf. You would always say, “Mom. You stink. You smell like beef and cheese.” I would then, tickle you until you could take no more. I’m sorry we had to be there tonight, without you. I’m sorry we have to go out and do “normal,” things without you. I thought it was going to be a good family night. I am trying to make us do more of those things. Everything just feels so wrong, Ronan. I love you. I miss you. I hope you are safe. G’nite baby doll.

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Ronan and a Rockstar

Ronan. Today was one of those days that so many things have happened, that I feel like I’ve lived a week, in a day. I fell asleep earlier, exhausted from everything. I’m up now. Lovely. For the 10 days that Macy was here, I slept like a baby. I slept in a way that I have not slept, since before you were sick. Last night, with no Macy in your bedroom because she had to go back to San Francisco, I tossed and turned all night. I’ve done the same thing tonight. Macy, my natural Ambien is gone and I am back to not sleeping. I talked about this with Dr. Jo today. We chalked it up to being about many things. We think a lot of it is the way Macy takes our sad, empty house and fills it with peace and love. I think I took great comfort in knowing that while she was here, your little room was not empty because Macy was sleeping in it. Now it’s empty again. It’s sad and lonely which in turn leaves me feeling unsettled. So, back to not sleeping I go. I will write to you instead.

This morning I started tossing and turning around 5 a.m. I was groggy from only sleeping for a few hours. My phone beeped with a text message. It was from Dr. Jo around 7 a.m. It said, “Call me ASAP.” Crap. My stomach dropped. Is this something bad? Is she o.k.? My mind immediately goes to the worst place possible which usually involves an awful accident, somebody being seriously ill or dead. I called her back right away.

“Hi Mama!” she said. I said, “What’s wrong? Are you o.k.?” She said she was. She said she was driving down to Phoenix from Sedona but she couldn’t wait until our appointment to talk to me as she had something to tell me. I told her to hold on, so I could get up out of bed. I didn’t want to wake your Daddy. I grabbed your GiGi and went into your room and curled up on your bed. “What’s going on?” Dr. Jo then went on about the dream she had. How she woke up at 2:11 a.m., crying from what she had just experienced because it was that powerful and vivid. It was all about you. She said she saw you. She knew you were dead. How you were so beautiful and had this glow surrounding you. She watched you as you kind of hovered above me but you were nestled in my arms. She said “Hi Ronan!” She asked if she could hold you. You told her yes. She was holding you. Macy was there. You kept telling her, “You have to tell my mom, it’s o.k. I was there with her and Macy. But you have to tell her it’s o.k! Don’t forget. Don’t forget to tell her I’m o.k.” She held you and she said she would tell me. You kept saying those words over and over. She said she went to put you down and you started kicking your little legs telling her you didn’t want to be put down. Dr. Jo said it was one of the most real dreams she’s ever had about a person other than the one she had about her father and the one she had about Cheyanne. I smiled at her dream. I was quiet and then told her the kicking your legs part is so something you would have done. She asked how I felt about her dreaming about you. I told her I was honored that you chose to visit her and that I was so glad that you did. She said she was honored because she never got to know you, but the fact that you let her hold you in her dream, meant so much to her. She kept talking about how beautiful you were, how you had all of your hair. I imagine you looked to her, in her dream the way you looked in real life. With your little pouty lips, tan skin, button nose, that sandy colored hair, and of course, those big blue eyes. Absolute perfection in every way. I am so glad you went to see her last night, Ro. For as much as I don’t know, her dream makes me think that maybe you are o.k. I still don’t know how you can be o.k., without me. But I have to try to trust that you are because I am making myself go crazy with worry, that you are not. I don’t know if that will ever go away but during that time that I listened to Dr. Jo, I felt for a few minutes that it could be possible. I hoped, anyway.

After I got off the phone, I started our day as usual. Got your brothers off to school. Met up with Katie for a quick coffee. Ran to Dr. Jo’s office for a long session. We talked about how last week was. Everything that went on. We went back and forth on the noise that is invading my brain. We made some decisions involving how I would go about handling it. She was proud of me and how I had taken the time to sit with some things instead of acting impulsively on them which is what I would have done in the past. I sat in her office with your blanket draped around my neck as I always do. I often catch myself burying my face into it and smelling it the way you used to. She told me I looked tired. I told her I was so very tired. She offered to fill me up with sugar to get me through the day. I laughed at the 10 Reeces Peanut Butter Cups she had waiting for me on her couch. I peeled myself up, thanked her, and gave her a big hug goodbye. She told me to call her later about some things. I told her I would.

I had a little time before I had to get your brothers. I came home just to get a few things done so your Daddy will not divorce me. Things that I needed to get done like paying bills and putting laundry away. I came home to our quiet house which I hate but I cannot escape at all times. I escape it a lot. I avoid being here, alone, in the middle of the day as much as I can. It is such a sad, quiet house without the little pitter patter of your feet. Without your little voice that used to fill up this entire house with such love. Everything is different in such a bad way. A bad way which includes this reality that will not go away. No matter how many miles I run in a day or how far away I drive. It’s here to stay.

My phone rang from a blocked number today. Normally, I wouldn’t have picked it up, but I was clued in earlier in the day as who it may be on the other end so I picked it up.

“Hello.” I said in my best not 15-year-old voice ;) (that was for you, Sparkly)

“Hi, is this Maya?”

“This is she.” I replied.

“Hi Maya, it’s Bret Michaels.”

I simply replied, “Hi Bret,” as if I have known this huge Rockstar my entire life. It didn’t truly dawn on me, who I was speaking to. At least not while I was on the phone with him. That changed after I hung up and processed all that was said. It changed for the few minutes that I allowed it to, but then I remembered. Mr. Bret Michaels is indeed a Rockstar. But even more importantly, he is a dad. He is a parent. He gets this because at the end of his crazy filled days, it is the love of his life and his kids that matter most. He knows what really matters most in this world and it is not his name in bright, shiny lights. He gets the bigger picture of things and what is truly important.

He started off by saying how much he and everyone around him, thinks about us. How he has read this entire story. How sorry he was. I thanked him. He kept saying over and over that he wanted to help in any way he could. To please just let him know what he could do, and he would make it happen. He talked about how he gets asked to support a lot of charities, but he really only supports a few as he doesn’t want to confuse people. I know diabetes is close to his heart as he struggles with it and wants to find a cure. He told me that he wants to support this. How he wants to help me change things. We talked about the things he can do. We talked about the connections he has which are HUGE. He just worked with the Trumps on a Fundraiser that raised a million dollars. He told me he works closely with them and he would be happy to be the link between us. The things he has offered to do are bigger than anything I could have ever thought possible. I mean, I know I have huge goals and a very different vision for your Foundation, Ronan. I know how much I believe in you and what that little face of yours is going to do. Now, here is this huge Rockstar who believes in you too and is offering to do whatever he can to help. Here is a Rockstar who is not only talking the talk, but who wants to walk the walk. He wants to meet with me before the end of the year to get the ball rolling on some of the things we talked about. I started to cry. I asked him where this huge heart of his came from. He sounded choked up and I just started thanking him over and over. We left it by him saying, he would not be in touch next year…. he would be in touch in a few weeks so we can figure out where exactly we can take this. I hung up the phone. I sat in my car and cried. For so many reasons. The timing of his phone call could not have come at a better time. You know what I have been struggling with. If this was ever a sign to stop second guessing myself and my voice, this was it. This is it. I know not everyone is going to be o.k. with the way I’ve chosen to express myself because people are afraid of the truth. I don’t want to appeal to the everyone’s of the world. Because the everyone’s of the world are not worthy of your beauty. I believe the world is changed by the unique people of the world who are not afraid to take chances, who think outside of the box, who bend the rules, who don’t conform because they follow their hearts. I believe the world will change because of the people like Bret Michael’s. A man who has such a big voice but an even bigger heart. This is so you, Ronan. This is all you. You would have been so proud today. I smiled and cried because this is so fitting for you. You and your love for all things Rock and Roll. You and your wild and free ways. Because ALL GOOD THINGS ARE WILD AND FREE. In life and in death the wild and free, doesn’t change. It lives on forever.

So, after I stopped pinching myself today, I started putting together a plan. I ran some things past your Daddy. I tucked in your brothers. I fell asleep for a brief amount of time thinking about how the power of you and our love, really is moving mountains. I am so thankful that there are such good people out there, who believe in us and who want to help be a change for things like Neuroblastoma so that one day, a mommy and daddy don’t have to endure what we are having to survive. I told your Daddy how the thing I loved most about the Bret Michael’s story was that how it just came to be, naturally. How it wasn’t forced. I truly believe that is how the best things come about. I don’t want to have to plead my case to thousands of different people as to why you are so worth fighting for. I just want to continue our love story that is never going to have an ending. I just want to continue to write the things I think or feel. And if people like Bret Michaels are so moved that they want to help… well, that shows me that what I am doing, is a step in the right direction. I don’t want the “you,” to get lost in all of this. I refuse to let you become a “brand.” I refuse to let you be treated like a business transaction. You are my son. I promise, I will not let the you in all of this, get lost. Ever.

That is all for tonight Ronan. Thank you for being behind this. I know this is all you. I know it is all you, who is touching so many people out there, who are worthy of the beauty you are bringing to the world. The timing of everything has been too impeccable for you, not to be the one behind all of this. You were much too wise for this earth. It was always so obvious to me how different and special you were. The fact that you are making things like this happen, makes me trust even more that our adventure is far from being over. I am just here to sit back and let you guide me. Thank you for guiding me during the times that I feel the most lost.I trust in you. I believe in you. That is enough for now. G’nite baby doll. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams.

xoxo

Sink or Swim, Baby. What’s it gonna be??

Hi Ro baby. It’s funny how much I look forward to this time with you at night. After the house is quiet. I think of this as my Ro time. The time I get to spend with you, taking care of you now. It’s so precious and dear to me. After the days which are usually pretty busy, this is my way to unwind with you and I treasure every second of it. Thanks for inspiring me so much that I always feel like I have so much to say to you. I am lucky in that regard.

I’m trying to remember the past couple of days. I still have a hard time remembering the things that we have done. Sunday flew by. I honestly cannot remember what we did. Today I dropped your brothers off at school. I left Macy here so she could get some work done. I ran some errands and got caught up on some things. I came home later in the afternoon and picked up Macy. We went to grab your brothers from school. We took them to eat. We wore fake mustaches. It was a sad day, but I tried my best to make it light and happy for the sake of your brothers. I didn’t want Macy to leave. I was sad about it all day. We took your brothers over to Katie’s to say Hi and so Macy could say goodbye to her. We came home and I did all the normal things that normal moms do. I made dinner. I put away laundry. I did dishes. I helped your brothers with their homework. I faked the mommy role very well today. Gold Star for me!

Quinny and I took Macy to the airport tonight. Everyone was sad to see her go. Even your Daddy. I’m telling you, she fits in so well with our family….. it kills me that you are not here with us to be a part of the Macy Magic anymore. She hugged Quinny goodbye as the tears poured down her cheeks. It was my turn next. I just held her, we both cried and said we loved each other. As soon as I got back in the car, Quinn asked when Macy could come back. I told him I hoped soon, but if not we would go and see her. I am not going to let so much time pass between seeing her again. Macy is healing for all of us. Macy is our sunshine through all of this. She makes the darkest days, sunny and bright. But the good thing about Macy is…. if the days need to be dark, she’s o.k. with that too. If the days are dark, she is the little ray of sunshine peeking out behind the clouds. I appreciate that so much. Love you Macy Wood in Da Hood. Thank you for everything.

So Ro, now what? Back to this life. Back to trying to figure things out. I’m trying to make sense of so many things right now. I feel confused and sad. I had a long talk with Dr. Jo yesterday about some things that are going on. She is one of the few people I trust anymore. I’ve had so much crap going on that I actually sent her a text that said something like, ” You would tell me if I were crazy, right?? Everyone around me is making me think I am losing my mind.” She called me. We talked for a good 45 minutes. She told me that I was indeed not even close to crazy. But to the outside world, the normal world may think that I am, because they don’t get it. They may think that they do, but if they haven’t lost a child, they cannot even come close to understanding. But it’s been 6 months Ro. The whispers around me are saying, “Shouldn’t she be getting better by now?” As if there is a time frame on how much time should pass after you lose a child and then it’s time to “get better,” and “get happy” and “choose the right path!” And Grief can certainly make a person feel like they are crazy. I hate that I second guessed myself. I hate that for those few minutes, I felt like I actually might be crazy. I hate that I didn’t trust myself because of all the stupid noise around me. I don’t like noise. I know Dr. Jo and I know the things she is telling me, are not because they are the things she thinks I want or need to hear. She will always be truthful and honest with me. If she thought I were crazy, she would tell me. The thing about Dr. Jo is, she would tell me from an honest place and I would listen to her. She would tell me if I were crazy and she would embrace my crazy. She wouldn’t ever judge me. She wouldn’t ever tell me what I am doing is right or wrong. She would allow me to do this the way I felt was right, without being too overbearing or too opinionated. Or too pushy. You know how well I do with judgmental and pushy people. I don’t. I don’t and I won’t tolerate it. I’ll shut down. I’ll push away. I know who I am, Ronan. Faults and all because I do have many. I know who you are. I know what you expect of me.

I don’t know much about this life now except it is really, really, hard. Hard in a way, that I never knew life could be. Because the real world does not teach you about things like losing a child so therefor, you have to navigate this the best way you can…. without any sort of floatation device or paddle. Sink or swim, baby. Most of the time I feel like I’m sinking but then I remember the reasons why I need to try to swim. Why no matter how many people try to drown me….Inferno Fuckwad Bob being at the top of that list…… the reasons that I will continue to fight my way to the top of the water so that I can reach the surface and breathe again. Because I’m a fighter the same way you are. Because I started this blog and I’m not going to change a thing about it. I’m not going to stop writing it. I’m not going to be worried if it offends people or turns certain people off to supporting your Foundation. I’m not going to stop being me. Sad, happy, stupid, immature, angry, silly, crazy, goofy, honest, raw, scared, brave, and truthful. This is me. This is you. This is our world now. This is all we’ve got together and I’m not selling out, for anyone. I know who I need behind me. The one person that matters the most. Your Daddy. He is behind me. He supports this craziness. His opinion is the only one that matters to me. I know where we stand on this. It’s together. For now. That may change one day. If that time comes, I will sit down and listen. But now, this is the way it is. I’m not conforming. I’m not sugar-coating. I’m not going to stop being true to myself and who I am. I’ve been this way, from the beginning. It’s nothing new. It’s not as if I’ve pulled a 180 here and all of a sudden, I’m screaming from the rooftops for Cancer to Fuck OFF!!! instead of “Gosh darn you Cancer! Thanks for killing my son!” I’m not going to ever stop being true to you and the way you lived your life. I started this my way and that is how I intend on keeping it. I’m not going to let a bunch of men in black suits scare me off. I’m not conforming. I’m not here to fit in. I’m here to be me. Love me or leave me. You died, Ronan. But you still live in my heart, mind, body, and soul. You are my heart which is what I’m following here because it makes me feel like I am alive, for as much as I feel like I am dead. I don’t care what the outcome of all of this madness ends up being as long as I know I remained true to myself and what I believed in. I’m not living a life any other way. I’ve learned in a very cruel way, how short life really is. I’m going to live a life that I am proud of and if that is a disappointment to others, than so be it. I think to live a life any other way, is a very sad, sad life indeed. I think to expect anything else from a person who has just lost their baby, is just mean. There should be no expectations, no disappointments, no judgements. The only thing that there should be is unconditional love. And acceptance. Nothing else. Nothing more. It’s so simple, why make it complex?

So Ro. That’s it for tonight. Your daddy is having a really hard time right now too. 6 months of being without you is so much harder than the first month of all of this. That’s one of the many dirty little secrets nobody tells you about losing a child. It gets worse, as time goes on. Your daddy is doing the same thing I am now. He is looking for you. He thinks you are still here. The shock is wearing off for him too. The emotional anesthesia is fading away and it is pure and utter torture. It at times, can very well make you feel as if you are going insane. I think I miss you more today, than I ever have. I love you baby doll. I love you to the moon and back. I miss you so much. I hope you are safe. I’m so very sorry I couldn’t save you. I hope you know how hard I tried. I hope you forgive me. G’nite Ro baby. Sweet dreams.

And P.S. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!FUCK YOU CANCER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

xoxo

Team Maya Table for One!

Ronan. I survived our first Sucksgiving, without you. You know how I did it? I have no clue as the entire day was painful and sad. You know what else is totally messed up? That we took a holiday and celebrated it exactly the way we wanted to. There was no pressure of doing something we didn’t want to do. We stayed home. We picked up Chinese Food. I made Macy wear a wig all day with me and I wore some ridiculous outfit/hat/glasses to get me through the day. To hide my tears. We had some sweet friends stop by. They knew how hard the holiday was going to be, but they wanted us to know they were there for us. They brought by pies. And their kids. And provided lots of hugs, laughs, tears, and acknowledgment that you were missing…. and it was obvious. We ate. We talked. We had a mini dance party. We were quiet. We let the kids hit a piñata. Nobody prayed and talked about things we were thankful for. We lit things on fire. At one point it looked like a scene from Lord of the Flies in our backyard. There were no expectations. It was survival only. Everybody knew that we had decided on Thanksgiving, that we had nothing to be thankful for. Woody and I both decided that. Together. It was our one day, to say fuck everything. Because every other day, we are fiercely reminding ourselves what  it is we DO have to be thankful for, just to subside the pain of not having you anymore, Ro. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it doesn’t. I hope it isn’t always this exhausting. But for now, it is. I am really glad that this holiday, is over for now. You know what else, Ro. It wasn’t actually that holiday that was hardest for me. It was the day after. The day after Sucksgiving when I was scrubbing the island in the middle of our kitchen and I felt like I was sucker punched in the middle of a “normal,” day. Tears sprang for no particular reason, other than the reality that I now live with. Your death which still does not seem real to me. I looked around our kitchen. I sat and waited to hear your voice. I begged for somebody to please tell me this is not my life. I beg for this a thousand times a day.

I’m not really sure what I’m doing at this point. Sometimes I feel so strong. Other times I feel so weak. I’m mostly just sad. Everywhere I look I am surrounded by other people’s pain and sadness. Some days I feel like we are all running around like chickens with our heads cut off as it feels as if our family just doesn’t know what to do without you. I swear Liam and Quinn look for you just as much as I do. Your absence if felt everywhere. I’m not sure how to get through this. This week I guess I am just trying to stay afloat. I am assuming a lot of this has to do with the holiday season approaching. Everyone is happy. Christmas music all around. People buzzing around shopping, shopping, shopping as if that it what the Christmas spirit is truly about. It leaves me confused. And scared. And sad. Was I like all of those people before all of this? I don’t really remember my life, before losing you to be honest with you. I don’t think I was. I have proof I wasn’t. I used to write about you all the time when you were alive and healthy. I used to say things like how everyday with you, felt like Christmas to me, because it did. You were our best Christmas gift, everyday. And it wasn’t just me who felt this way, Ronan. Your daddy and brothers felt this way too. You made everything complete and perfect in our family. You were the missing link. And how do you go from having all the pieces fall into place to having them all ripped away? How do you survive that?  I wish I knew the answer to that, Ronan. I am here, trying to figure it out but it mostly leaves me feeling like I am a 5-year-old, sitting in a mud puddle, crying, with rain pouring down on me and I am unable to get up because I am too stuck in the mud. That is the nice version of how I feel.

The things I’ve had to deal with this past week make me want to throw up. Just life stuff in general that I don’t have the tools to deal with anymore. How can I possibly be expected to deal with normal things that normal people go through that are considered “problems?” I can’t. I don’t want to. I don’t have the energy. Or the patience. Because I no longer see the world the same. I’m am no longer like everyone else which in turn just leaves me feeling totally alienated and alone. I choose to withdraw. I choose to be selfish. At this point in my life, I am just trying to survive this and figure out how I am not going to die from the pain. I don’t want to be inspiring. When people tell me that, it floors me. How can I possibly be inspiring when all I’m trying to do is to simply make it through the day? I don’t remember what your daddy said to me tonight, in the bathroom when I was washing my face but I looked at him and said, “Do you think I like doing any of this? Because I don’t. I don’t want to share Ronan with anyone. I want to keep him all to myself  but I can’t do that. Things have to change and I made him a promise.” Do you know what the easy answer would be to all of this Ronan? To quit. To pack it up. I know I could talk your Daddy into moving away from here. To some other town.  A quiet town where I could stop all this writing. Where I could stop all this fighting for you. Where we could disappear and reappear as just a normal family of 4. Where nobody knew about you. Where we could have 3 more babies. Where we could start over. It could easily be a reality. To run away. To try to run away from the pain. That would be the easy way out. But I won’t do it, Ronan. I don’t care how hard this gets. I won’t ever stop fighting for you. For our family whom believes in you so much. I couldn’t live with myself. I will stay here and fight for you for the rest of my life. I don’t care how many people I piss off in the process. You are my fuel and my fire. You are my passion, my heart, and my soul. I will give you everything I’ve got until things change in a major way. I’ve got nothing left to lose when I’ve already lost the thing which is most precious to a mother. Her child. But not only a child. My Ronan.

Tonight, I went for a really long, dark, late at night run. Mostly out of anger. And hurt. Mostly out of hurt, which turns into anger because anger is much easier to access, than sadness. All I want is for everyone to be on the same page as “Team Maya.” Turns out a lot of people, are not. And I have to learn to be o.k. with that. But it’s still hard. I ran far and had to have your daddy come and pick me up after mile 10. I thought about things. I mostly tried to picture what it must be like for my friends to be outsiders looking in on all of this. I tried to listen to the words I’ve heard and I tried to tell myself it is only coming from a place of love and concern. I tried to rationalize with myself and the things that were racing through my mind. It must be scary to be on the outside looking in.Why do so many people think they have a clue what this is like for me? For us? Why do so many people have an opinion on the way I am handling this? Am I hurting too much? Is that even possible? Am I making that poor of choices?  I guess. I confess. My poor choices include being sad. Being angry. Avoiding old friends. Making new friends. Avoiding all friends. Venting to the people closest to me. Running at night. The whole weekend of death. Looking for distractions like helping others. Being honest. Writing this blog. Being bratty. Being pissed at the world. Throwing pity parties. I did take a rock that one time and cut my arm just to see if I was capable of feeling pain. I didn’t feel a thing. Should I be decorating the Christmas tree, baking cookies, while singing along to Christmas Carols? How the fuck isn’t everyone just proud of me that I am being somewhat productive? Isn’t it enough that I’m not at the local Tavern, drinking my life away? I’m pretty fucking proud of myself for not going down that path. Actually, I think I’m pretty fucking awesome for that. Or I could be totally addicted to all the meds that I was on before. But I stopped taking them. Cold Turkey. Totally dangerous. Bloody hell. Maybe I’d fit better into the “Maya Mold,” if I would just play by the rules and shut the hell up and stop using the fuck word so much. Has anybody seen my apron? The casserole is ready!! Maybe I should just pretend to be a little bit sad and not so sad that I am scaring people. Or maybe I should get back on my meds and then” go away,” to an institution for month so I can reflect on this “amazing journey,” write a book, and then come out “happy,” again. What a crock of shit. What a crock of fucking shit that anybody who has not been through this thinks they are entitled to a fucking opinion about this. It is easy to have your opinions when you get to go back to your life and you have never had to kiss the Urn that your baby is in now because they died of cancer. It must be a very nice throne to sit on. It must be a very nice glass house, to live in.

Ronan baby. You know how much I miss you. You know how sorry I am. But most of all, you know how much I love you. I’m trying to let our love get me through this, but some days it’s harder than others. Some weeks, it’s harder than others. The one thing I know about you though is no matter how scary this all gets, you will never stop believing in me. You will never stop trusting me. You will never give up on me. Because of that, I will never be without you.

G’nite baby. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.

xoxo

ROCK THE VOTE FOR MISS KATIE!

http://www.arizonafoothillsmagazine.com/best-of-our-valley-2012/voting/150.html

There is still time to vote for the best kids store in AZ!  Let’s get our doll, Katie, back in first place!

Because Palmer Cash Kicks Ass

I’ve been ordering from this company for years. I love to rock my Golden Girls and Magnum P.I. Shirts weekly. Ben, the president contacted me a few months ago to tell me the sweet story of his wife who is a loyal blog follower. They wanted to make a Ronan shirt. I was honored to help them. Thank you to Ben and his lovely wife. Hope you all LOVE them. I think they are totally badass and am so proud to have Ronan’s name represented by such an awesome company. Here you go, friends! Order away!

http://www.palmercash.com/c-259-cancer.aspx

Happy Fucking SucksGiving!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

Ronan. Well fuck. I had an entire post written and I went to update something else and it got erased. Bloody Hell, baby doll. Guess that’s how this day had to start off since it’s our first official Fucksgiving. Or Sucksgiving. Or Macegiving. Or the sweetest one of all, RoGiving. Yup. It’s here. That stupid time of year. When all of the normals out there are sitting around giving thanks on today, when they should be giving thanks every freaking day that they are alive, with their healthy kids. I know our little secret though. Our little secret about all of our darling little readers out there. Well, most of them. I’m sure there are assholes out there who read this blog and just go about their ignorant ways. We can’t save them all, Ro. I know our most beautiful lovelies are spending this Sucksgiving, differently, because they are all thinking about you. And how truly blessed they really are. I know none of them are ungrateful and I know they are living each and every day, to the fullest, making the MOST of the messes their children make because they are so thankful to have them there to make messes. I’m not going to lie though. The thought of everyone else, getting to be extra grateful, because of you; because of us and our story, makes me sick to my stomach. It makes me sad. It stings. But it is the gift that you left behind. A gift that I am trying my hardest to be grateful for. But you know Ro, that Thanksgiving has been banned at our house this year. I have NOTHING to be grateful for. And I’m sure to some, this makes me seem like an ungrateful beoytch. But I don’t care. Because I know what the normals out there are all saying because I have been hearing it all week. “You have so much to be grateful for.” “You have the most beautiful sons and husband and friends.” Shut up, Fuckwads. I am aware of the beauty that surrounds me but that doesn’t take away the fact that you died and you don’t get to be here with us on this fucking ignorant holiday. That doesn’t change the fact that all I want to do today is survive because I made a promise to our Mr. Sparkly Eyes and to Dr. JoRo that I intend on keeping only because I keep my promises. And I won’t break them to those two because they are walking this dark walk with me and will never turn away, no matter how painful it may be. And yes, because of your Daddy and your brothers. That is a given and never even needs to be said. So Fucksgiving is here. And I cannot wait for it to be over.

I’m so sorry I have not written is so long. I have been so busy. So tired by the end of the day, that I have been crawling into bed at night and passing out. Without the Devil Ambien. Passing out from mental exhaustion. Macy is here. I know you know that. She got here on Friday, so she has been here almost a week. She is sleeping in your room. Can she just move in with us, please? New York Miss Macy makes everything better. EVERYTHING. You know, Ro. I know we have only known Macy for just about a year but FUCK…. she is one of the biggest gifts to come of this bloody nightmare. I’ll never forget the first time we met her and when she came bursting through the doors of the Ronald McDonald House from the cold streets of New York with her big eyes, just like yours. Her sweet smile, long flowing hair, and her arms full of gifts for you and your brothers. You were always so leery of strangers, but you fell in love with New York Miss Macy within seconds. I watched your little eyes light up as this stranger chased you around and had you giggling within minutes. I watched the way that I was able to forget that you were indeed, my very sick child. It was pure magic. It was so natural. It was true love. New York Miss Macy stayed with us the entire time we were in NYC and helped take care of you. NY Miss Macy, moved away to San Francisco and when we had to go to that city, to look into a treatment for you, it was her that you could not wait to see. New York Miss Macy came here before you passed away, to spend some time with you before you left. New York Miss Macy, came back for your funeral. New York Miss Macy is here now, for Sucksgiving, because she knows I would not be surviving this, without her. New York Miss Macy has spent all week with me, your Daddy, and your brothers. She has been cleaning, doing laundry, making beds, rubbing backs, pouring dish soup in the dishwasher by accident which has caused a never-ending soapy mess which has left me in giggles. She has laughed with me, cried with me, and listened to me while I scream, cuss, and stab food to death. She went up to Sedona with me for the day to see Dr. JoRo. We spent the day talking with Jo. We all went on a barefoot hike. Macy provided the entertainment by trying to barefoot hike with us, but she could only stand the pain for so long. Dr. Jo and I cracked up at the way she winced in pain with every step. She was a trooper for even trying. Macy drove us home from Sedona as I was so exhausted from the day that I could barely keep my eyes open. She was just as tired as she spent much of the day, crying with me. She is doing exactly what I need her to be doing, Ronan, and I haven’t even had to ask or tell her. New York Miss Macy is walking through the dark side, with me. New York Miss Macy is just letting me be. New York Miss Macy has never left. New York Miss Macy, is not running away because she does not know what to do with me. New York Miss Macy is not just our friend, Ronan. She is our family. Do you know what she did this morning, on FUCKING FUCKSUCKINGCOCKSUCKING Sucksgiving? She had a surprise for us. Yesterday, she had our Mandy Bee help her run an errand so she could do something for us today, for you. She went out and found the most beautiful purple tree for us to plant in our backyard. She wrote us the sweetest card that I could hardly read because just seeing the tears pour out of her eyes, said it all. She is that thoughtful and her heart is so big that it is capable of taking this sad, sad, house and filling it with a love that everybody feels, even with your absence. On everyday but today, because I am banning this holiday, I am so thankful for that girl. The girl that some people tried to tell me, would go away, after all of this was over because she “chose,” to inject herself into our “situation.”  Macy did not choose to inject herself into anything. You chose her for me, Ronan. You chose her because I think you always knew, it would be her that would be the one to help to save me. I always knew it too. I always knew that Macy would not up and forget us, or you. I was a first hand witness of how the love for you, shined through her eyes. How it still does. How it always will. That will never change. If anything, it will just become stronger. So, here we are today. Still in our pajamas with the football on, your brothers running around the house, Macy curled up on the couch, reading a magazine. The perfect family. Almost, baby. Almost.

Yesterday, Ronan. I am glad yesterday is over. Guess what I had happen to me for the first time? I woke up from my sleep with an excitement that filled my entire body. I sprung out of bed, my feet hit the floor, and I got about 10 steps in as I was headed to your room, to wake you up. I had forgotten that you had died. As soon as I remembered, I fell to the floor and started to cry. I picked myself up, got into the shower and continued to cry. I got ready, while still crying. I went and called Dr. JoRo, as I couldn’t get myself under control. When I finally composed myself enough to finish the task at hand, which was packing your brothers lunches, I went about my day but I couldn’t shake the feeling from the morning. To feel that excitement, that pure bliss and then to have it all ripped away within seconds was like losing you all over again. It shook me to the core and left me in a fog for the rest of the day and night. Fucking BULLSHIT. Fucking BULLSHIT that Cancer killed you. My healthiest child. Fucking BULLSHIT that we are all stuck here, without you. Nothing will ever be enough, Ronan. Nothing will ever take away the way I yearn for you every second of the day. It is just something I will have to learn to live with. The way that Bella from Twilight (yup, Macy and I totally went to see that movie) will have to learn to live her new life as a vampire is the way I feel. Except lucky Bella. She will never have to be apart from the love of her life, Edward Cullen. Fuck. The whole time I was watching that movie I wished so badly that Vampires were real and that I was one of them and when you died, I imagined your little body laying in the bed. I imagined myself biting your body to inject you with my venom to turn your into a little Vampire, so that we would never have to be apart. I played that picture in my head, over and over again. You would have been the most beautiful vampire. Edward Cullen would have had nothing on you. If only Vampires were real. If only you just hadn’t gotten sick with Cancer and died. If only the fucking medical world would get a clue. If only Childhood Cancer, was as recognized as AIDS. If only. I have so many of them in my life now.

I have to go now Ro, baby. I have to get ready for our White Trash Chinese Eating Mustache Fucksgiving that we are going to try to have. I have to get ready to beat the shit of our 1 or our 3 pinatas. I’m so sorry you are not here. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I miss you so much. I hope you are safe. I will love you forever.

xoxo

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Mandy the Owl, Ben with the Bald Head, and Bret the Rockstar

Ronan. I guess I’ve had a hard couple of days. So many things have happened. Everything seems to be moving so fast, yet so slow. I’ll have to catch you up on some things since it’s been a couple of days since I’ve written to you. I drove up to Sedona on Tuesday to see Dr. JoRo. I could have seen her here in Phoenix, later this week but I honestly like the drive up there and back. It’s my quiet time in the car. I don’ talk on the phone. Sometimes I listen to music. Sometimes I don’t. I am always thinking of you. I cry a lot. Here in Phoenix, I feel like I am constantly on the go. It’s a race that often leaves me exhausted and I don’t get to sit and be quiet much. I am still trying to find that happy medium of grieving for you and letting my self being absorbed in the pain; without slitting my wrists. Sometimes it hurts so much that I’m scared to sit and just let myself just be. Sometimes I don’t think I can handle the pain. I worry about what will come of it. My mind can slip into a very dark place, with the blink of an eye.

My time with Dr. JoRo was long. Grueling. Good. We talked about everything. I always find myself staring up at your pictures a lot that she has on her shelf of the thousands of books that she has read. I cried a lot. She cried too. We listened to a song together as the tears slid down both of our cheeks. There was a lot of crying. There was a lot of fucking fuck words used by the both of us. She is helping me with a little research as far as trying to figure out who we want to help fund treatments for Neuroblastoma. I don’t want any of this money to go towards a fancy hospital building and advertising. I don’t want this money to go towards building a wing of a hospital with your name on the fancy door. FUCK FANCY. This money has to go directly to the RESEARCH aspect of this disease. This money that we are trying to raise will go to the team that we believe in with our whole hearts and souls. The team that we feel will up the survival rate and ultimately, find a cure. This has to be a doctor/facility that is going about things differently. Because obviously what they are doing for this disease is NOT working. But they keep doing the same thing, over and over. If you survive Neuroblastoma, it’s by luck of the draw and nothing more. I have 2 doctors I am interested in. I’m putting their names out there tonight. Dr. Giselle Sholler and Dr. Yale Mosse. I know Dr. Mosse from Chop. She is the one who has a little piece of my heart due to her passion for finding a cure for the nasty disease. But her hands are tied by the COG. I am not a fan of the rules she has to play by. If anybody wants to throw info my way about Dr. Sholler, or anyone else, feel free to do so. I’ll take all the help I can get. I want to meet with them both. I want to see the evidence behind what they are doing, and why they think it is going to work.

Dr. Jo knows you shouldn’t have died. But you did. She is going to help me every way she possibly can. She is doing more than just saving my life. She is going to help me fight this Childhood Cancer nobody gives a fuck, BULLSHIT. We talked about your Foundation. She tried to tell me I didn’t have to do any of this if I didn’t want to. I looked at her, gave her a half-smile and told her that it wasn’t my choice anymore. I told her I am not choosing to do anything. For me, this is not something that I am choosing to do. It is something I HAVE to do; just like I have to breathe, to stay alive. She looked at me and said she knew I was going to say that, because she felt the exact same way, 17 years ago when her baby girl died and she was locked in a closet, going through the Yellow Pages, trying to find someone to help her get through losing her baby girl. There was nobody. She almost died from the pain. She swore to Chey if she lived through it, she would change this and help other parents. The MISS Foundation was born because of her pain and because she survived. She survived, Ro. And now look at all the people she is here, helping. She is saving the lives of so many parents who feel so alone. She is a walking billboard for surviving one of the worst thing that can happen to a person, but she still managed to come out the other side even more beautiful than before. Stronger. Smarter. Wiser. It changed her in a way that a person never wants to be changed. As sick as it is, the death of her child has turned Dr. Jo into someone who fucking lives on this earth, walking on water. I know she doesn’t feel this way, as she is so ridiculously humble. But this is the way I see her. To me, that woman walks on water while cussing up a storm which makes me love her even more.

After I got home from a really long Sedona day, I had a meeting to go to for your Foundation. We had to choose some new board members. As of now, our board is really small and intimate. I want it to stay this way. I need the people on it, who have walked through hell and back with me. Who you knew and loved because they are family. My sisters. The board meeting was VERY formal which was so weird to me. I got about half way through it but then my head started spinning. I lost it. In the middle of everything, I buried head on the table, in my arms, and just started bawling. I felt the hands of Fernanda and Tricia rubbing my back. I stayed that way for a few minutes. Then I just got up and bolted out of the restaurant, crying, crying and crying. Just like that. You know what I wanted to do? I wanted to run really, really, really far away. To the most dangerous neighborhood in Phoenix. I wanted to run out in the middle of traffic to get him by a car. I decided the boots I was wearing were too cute to ruin, so I sat down on a bench instead. I sat and soon Fernanda came and sat down with me. She sat and held my hand and pressed it up against the locket that I gave to her with some of your ashes in it. She kept asking me where I was. Where my head was. I couldn’t even answer her. I just sat and cried. I think we sat there for about 20 minutes. I ended up trying to gather my thoughts. The fact that I was sitting around that table last night, talking about you, like you were a business made me sick to my stomach. It was too much for me to handle and I went into it, completely blindsided. I felt like I was being beaten to a pulp. I felt like my insides were being ripped out. I felt like I wanted to just die. I went home, after that meeting, looked at Warden Woody and said, “Give me a fucking Ambien.” He tried to argue. I wasn’t having it. The running off of 5 hours of sleep, for the past 3 days was caching up with me. After yesterday and last night, I couldn’t do another night of tossing and turning. I popped that little Devil and it was lights out until 7 a.m.

Today. Groundhogs day, all over again. Met a Lovie for coffee. Cried. Our lovie, cried too. Talked. Cried. Made some promises. Took a drive with her. It felt nice. Ran to meet Miss Mandy Bee for lunch. She came wearing her Owl SPIRIT HOOD because she is that crazy, that she thinks she is a Goddamn Owl, in real life. And we are both that weird that we like to wear our animal Spirit Hoods, everywhere, just the way you and I did. I’m wearing yours now, as I sit here and write. We sat outside at America’s Taco Shop. Mandy had some exciting news about getting the word out there about you. Just as we were in the middle of talking about you and I was starting to tell her what bullshit this is, that you died of this disease because nobody’s voice has been powerful enough to make the fucking world stop and LISTEN. Why the fuck does this have to be me? This should have been somebody else, 5 years ago and then you would not have to be fucking DEAD. I started to get really upset. I started throwing a pity party to Miss Mandy Bee. Why me? Why him? I don’t want this. I want this to all go away. I want him back. I don’t want to stay on this earth. I want to die. I don’t want to fucking do this. Just as I was saying those words, Ronan…..He appeared. Outside. On the patio where Mandy Bee and I were. Ben. What the fuck. Somebody is clearly messing with me, Ronan. Ben with the Bald Head. I looked at Mandy. I seriously thought I was dreaming. Mandy watched me, she grabbed my hand. Do you want to leave, she asked? No, I said. His Dad came and sat down and said Hello. His mom came out next. She looked at me and said, “You’re Maya, right?” I said indeed I was. She asked if I remembered her from the clinic. I had forgotten her face. But I remembered Ben’s. I stood up to give her a hug. Her husband hugged me as well. We sat and talked. They looked sad. They looked scared. Ben looked beautiful. I wanted to eat him up. I wanted to spend my whole day getting lost in his dimples while kissing the top of his bald head. His mom kept saying she felt like they were upsetting me. I was upset alright, but it wasn’t for the reason that I think she thought it was. I was upset because just 10 minutes before they arrived, I sat and bitched that none of what I was doing, mattered because you are gone. I gave into the selfish Maya that sometimes comes out because the bottom line is, YOU ARE DEAD. But Ben is not. Ben is here. Ben is still fighting. Ben saved me today. I know that was a sign from you, Ronan. That was too much of of coincidence, for it not to have been. That was your way of communicating with me. That was your way of saying, “Hey Mama! Don’t give up! I’m right by you, helping you. Mama, you have to be the loud voice now. You have to take everything you are doing and keep going, for all the other kids out there. For all the other kids who deserve a future. For me, because this is what we were meant to do, together.” Ben was you today. And Ben was exactly what I needed at that exact moment. I know it was you. Thanks, Ro. I’ll keep on truckin’ until the world turns into a sea of Gold for SEPTEMBER. But PURPLE, for you. Ben gave me a big hug goodbye. I kissed the top of his head. It reminded me so much of yours.

I spent the rest of the day, lost in what had happened at the Taco Shop. I ran over to Katie’s store. I was sitting at the counter, with my computer, doing some things. Christy and Katie were behind the counter, working. Pandora was on, as always. As I was sitting there, one of your favorite songs started to play. Angus and Julia Stone, “Big Jet Plane.” I sat there, stunned. I looked up and said to the girls, “This was Ronan’s favorite song.” I covered my face and started to cry. Christy asked if I wanted her to turn it off. I told her no. About halfway through the song, my phone rang. Of course it did. Was this you too? How does this always happen, every time I seem to be having a really hard moment? Our favorite lovie always knows when to call.

I picked up. I said one word.

“Hello.”

“Why are you crying?”

-how the fuck does he know i’m crying?? all i did was say hello.

“I’m not. I’m fine. I don’t know.”
– i start to cry, harder.

“What’s going on? Yes, you are, cut the bullshit and tell me what’s going on. Please.”

fuck. why can’t i ever pull the wool over our lovie’s eyes? i don’t want to say why i’m crying. but i did.

I think it went something like this……”Because I’m sad. Because of the song on the radio. Because of the board meeting where Ronan is a business. Because I miss him. Because of Ben at America’s Taco Shop. Because of Thanksgiving. Because I have to fucking survive Thanksgiving. Because I don’t know how I’m going to get through it. Because I haven’t slept. Because I want him back. Because I JUST WANT HIM BACK.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, darling.”

I don’t remember much more of the conversation. But by the time it was over, I had stopped crying. It was enough. It was like an invisible hug, from you.

I left to pick your brothers up from school. Quinn had a sore throat so I had made him a doctor’s appointment earlier in the day. I stopped to feed your brothers, before our appointment since we didn’t have time to go home. I went into Jack and the Box while your brothers waited in the car. It was pretty empty. There was a man at the counter. You could tell he was homeless. He was dressed as nice as he could possibly be. His shirt was tucked into his pants. He was older, probably in his 60’s. He was pulling out coupons to pay for his 3 dollar meal. He smelled awful. He needed a haircut and a shave. He was hungry. I could tell he was so very hungry. I waited my turn. I watched this man with the kind, sad eyes. He didn’t seem to notice me. I watched as he paid for his food. I watched the way he sucked down his drink like he had not had anything to drink, in days. I’m ashamed to say, in my old life I probably would have felt sad for this man, told myself you are so lucky, Maya. But it is very possible I would have just looked the other way while counting my blessings. Not today. Today, I wanted nothing more but to take this man home. Feed him. Let him shower. Give him clean clothes and a bed to sleep in. I wanted to sob for this man. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I knew it wasn’t going to be nothing. I paid for my food. I watched the man, standing at a table, putting his coupons away. I took out one of your cards. I wasn’t sure how do approach this man, as I didn’t want to offend him. I walked over to the table that he was sitting at. I gave him one of the cards with your picture on it. I handed him a 20 dollar bill. He looked at me and said, “No. No. Really? Is it that obvious?” I simply said, “No. Not at all. This is not from me. This is from my son. He died of cancer. He wants you to eat.” The man tried not to accept my 20 bucks. You could tell he wanted it, but you could tell he was also a man who still had a pinch of dignity left. He told me thank you. He told me that I should save my 20 dollars and give it to the humane society. I told him I didn’t want to save an animal.(sorry. i’m am a animal lover. but these days, kids with cancer just tug at my heart a little more. today, this hungry man, tugged at my heart a lot more) I told him to please take the 20 bucks. I told him to go and do something kind for someone else. He promised he would. I believe him. He told me, that he had just spent his last 3 dollars, on his meal. I am such a skeptic of human beings, Ro; but not today. Today, I believed this man. Today, I believed in the human spirit and I believe that, because of you. It’s days like today that I know that you are making me a better person than I could have ever imagined. It’s days like today that I realized that I need to stop fighting all the little gifts you are leaving me because I know they truly do exist. And I know I am worthy of receiving them. I know they won’t bring you back but I know they will keep you alive.

I have to go now, Ro. Too tired. Too sad. Too much. I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry. I hope you are safe. I love you to the moon and back, baby boy.

One last thing. But not a little thing. A HUGE thing. Bret Michaels. Bret Michaels the kick ass Rockstar who is the genius behind the band, Poison. Bret Michaels went on the Regis and Kelly show today. He wore your F U Cancer bracelet, Ro. He is spreading the word about you. Can you believe this???? I am in awe. We so need people like this, behind your cause. We so need a voice for Childhood Cancer. Education=Awareness and Awareness=CURES. People have to start listening. Because of what that man did today, they are going to listen. I have a feeling the gorgeous woman in his life, had a little something to do with this as well. It takes a strong family united, to get things done. Today, they did this, for us. For YOU. For all the other parents and kiddos out there who have been forced into this nightmare. For all the parents and kids out there who are helpless and so scared. He helped us all today and I wonder if he has any idea, how much it means? How this could really get the ball rolling and start changing things. Because babies/kids/teens need to stop being fucking MURDERED by Childhood Cancer. So Mr. Kickass Rockstar Bret Michaels. Thank you from the bottom of Ronan’s wild and free heart. I know you know that all good things, truly are wild and free. You are an amazing man. And gorgeous Kristy. Thank you for being the raddest wild and free mama, behind this man by doing something so selfless and kind. You two, are amazing.

Ro baby. Did you ever in your life think that for only being almost 4, that you would have so much power? I always knew this. Your beauty alone moved mountains while you were among the living. Now look what it’s doing and you’re not even here, Ro. You are that special, beautiful, and magical. You will always be mine. And I will always, be yours. Forever. I love you.

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Hey Sports Fans!!!! Looking what is being Bid on to raise money for Ronan’s Foundation!!!

http://www.ebay.com/itm/Sports-Illustrated-Sportsman-Year-Award-Celebration-2-NYC-12-6-11-/250933188927

Because I can’t sleep. And I’m sad. And this video makes me laugh. And dance parties make everything better.

http://youtu.be/ozVkhIc1_Gc

  • Instagram is my BFF

    Hi Teddy! #poppy #ronan #poppyandteddy #teddytalk #fucancer #goldendoodle Simple Sundays. #ronan #fucancer #poppyroo #playinghouse #wheresteddy? @cocomatil Ted. #ronan #fucancer #fridaynights #teddygrahmthompson #bestdogever #myboyfriend #goldendoodle
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