I told you FTP wrote the soundtrack to my life

 

 

Call it what you want
Call it what you want
I said just call it what you want
Call it what you want

Yeah we’re locked up in ideas
We like to label everything
Well I’m just gonna do here what I gotta do here
‘Cause I gotta keep myself free
You’re ducking and moving just to hide your bruises from all your enemies
And I’m in the crossfire dodging bullets from your expectancies

We’ve got nothing to lose
You better run and hide
Yeah you’ve crossed the line
I’ve got a knife behind my back (just sayin’)
We’ve got nothing to prove
Your social guides give you swollen eyes
But what I’ve got can’t be bought so you can just

Call it what you want
Call it what you want
I said just call it what you want
Call it what you want

You’ve taken your words and you take your judgments
And stick them onto everything
If it don’t conform to what you were born into,
Then you run the other way
You say, “now what’s your style and who do you listen to?” who cares?
Well that rat race ladder-climbing fake-face smile’s got nothing on me

We’ve got nothing to lose
You better run and hide
Yeah you’ve crossed the line
I’ve got a knife behind my back (just sayin’)
We’ve got nothing to prove
Your social guides give you swollen eyes
But what I’ve got can’t be bought so you can just

Call it what you want
Call it what you want
I said just call it what you want
Call it what you want

Leo Died.

Ronan. A bedtime story for you. An unconventional story. The best kind of bedtime story. Because you never got the chance to grow up and hear this story. So, I will tell it to you now. Enjoy, little one.

My childhood, Ronan. So whimsical. So unstable. So honest. A childhood full of love and chaos. But not the good kind of chaos. The kind of chaos that ends up in divorce. Because parents fight too much. The kind of chaos that makes a little girl, develop thick skin. Which I am thankful for. Which I have always been thankful for.

A childhood, where rules did not really apply. But dreams did. Dreams that were my own to create and nobody else’s. Dreams that were shattered into a million pieces. But you learned how to put them back together, one by one. Alone.  A small town. A very small town. Full of  people who all looked the same. Until one day. Until one day, this man appeared as he had dropped from the heavens above. Tall. So tall. Your Daddy’s tall. 6’7 at least. To a little girl, like me, he looked like a giant. Curly, shoulder length black hair. Coal, dark, skin. As dark as night. The whitest smile. The biggest smile. The MOST sparkling, chocolate, eyes. Well…. almost;) My first encounter with the sparkly eyes. The laugh that could have stopped the world, dead in its tracks, and would have taken anyone who was full of ugliness, and turned their soul, beautiful. A man, that took a sad little girl, and gave her a reason to smile. And laugh. And love. One of my first teachers, about life, love, and loss. True loss. Painful loss.

I don’t know where this man came from. This man whose name was Roger, but we all called him Leo. Leo the Lion. He became a part of our family. My parent’s took him in, like he was just one of us. Uncle Leo. He would show up at our house often, out of nowhere and would stay for lengths of time. He would go on trips with us. Whenever he would come, I always knew our house would be filled with happiness. It was a given when he was around. My parent’s were magically happy. It was as if had cast a spell on them. He loved us. We loved him. We were family. It didn’t matter how different he looked from us. I never even noticed. I just thought he was beautiful. And so kind. A gentle soul. Even at 10 years old, I knew he was special. That his soul was different. I was a wise little girl. I soaked up the fact that my parents treasured him. That he created a world of happiness, just by being in his presence. They accepted him, for as different as he may have been, to our small town. There was gossip. Whispers. Looks. I was taught to ignore them all. There were not many people who looked or acted like Leo in our town. I respected my parents for not conforming to the “rules.” We simply lived the way they wanted to. The way, they believed in. An honest way where they didn’t hide much. No matter how ugly it may have been at times.

One night, Leo, appeared at our house. He had driven in from the town he lived in, which was not close by. A few hours from us I think. I was so excited to see him. I remember he was standing in our kitchen, and the way he seemed to glow to me. To illuminate a light. He pulled up his shirt, to show my parent’s some sort of wound that was on the side of his stomach, and it was not getting better. He was sick but was not sure with what. I remember feeling sad, but not scared. I was more concerned and confused as to what it could be. I wanted to know how I could fix it. Or how my parents could. Surely it was nothing.  It was quickly brushed aside, and Leo made light of it. He was all about happiness and did not want to worry my parents or intrude with something that he was sure, was nothing.

Time went by. Years passed. My parents got a divorce. I saw less of Leo. I went to live with my mom. Leo was my Dad’s best friend, and I didn’t see a lot of my dad, which meant I saw less and less of Leo. A phone call one day from my Dad. Although we didn’t see much of each other, hours of phone conversations existed between us. Honest phone calls. Always brutally honest phone calls between and father and a daughter. I must have been about 15 when I got this phone call from my Dad. “Leo is sick. Leo is not getting better. Leo has a disease called, AIDS.”

“AIDS,” I remember saying. “Like Magic Johnson?” I was devastated. I knew AIDS was a death sentence.

“Yes,” he replied. “But I am going to take care of him and try to save him by taking care of him, the naturopathic way. Nobody else knows what to do.”

And I’m also pretty sure, Leo, didn’t have insurance.

“O.k., Dad. I’m sorry. Please give Leo a hug.”

Years passed by. My dad took care of Leo, for many more years to come. My Dad took better care of Leo, than he did of me. It’s o.k. I understood. It was never an issue; Leo needed my dad, more than I did.

My dad fed him organic everything. Organic juices, fruits, vitamins, meditating, everything he could do, until they could do no more. My Dad watched Leo die.

I remember being so sad. It was my first encounter with death from somebody that was not 85 years old.  I was older when he died. I believe I had moved away to Arizona by this time. My heart ached for Leo, for my Dad, who had lost someone who was like a brother to him. I wouldn’t learn, for about a year after his death, that Leo was not your stereotypical male. This was never an issue in our family. To us, Leo was just a person, who loved everyone. And what is more beautiful than that?

It took me a long time to get over losing Leo. I still miss him but I miss him in the most beautiful way. When I think of him, I can still hear his laugh, see his smile, and I am reminded on why it is so important to be true to who you are, in this life. I will never forget his sparkling eyes, and I often hope, that if there is another world, where we are reunited with our loved ones, that he is off playing with you, Ro. I hope you are great friends. Leo was my first teacher, other than my parents. He showed me what it was like to live a life of freedom. What it meant to truly be a free spirit. How to embrace my inner Inca and to not be afraid of things that were “different,” to the norm of society back in 1988, when I was just a little girl, growing up in the deep, dark, forest, of a very small town.

He showed me light in the darkest of days. I need his light now. I am searching for it, constantly. It’s as I have been transformed back into the life of a 10-year-old little girl, trapped in a life of sadness. Lost in the deep, dark forest of 1064 Harmony Drive. Without anybody’s hand to hold because the only person’s hand  that I want to hold in all of this, is yours. And you are gone. And I am here. And life is not fair.

The End. For now. But not forever.

I love you my never spicy, extra naughty, monkey boy. I hope you are playing with Leo. I hope he is keeping you safe, happy, and you two are waiting together, for me. I promise to make you both, proud. I love you and miss you, so much.

xoxo

I forgot to pay the Cox Bill and I burnt the Fucking pre-made Cookies

Ronan. 3 days since I’ve written? How is that possible? I couldn’t possibly tell you what I’ve done. I only have words that fill my head. Conversations I remember. Thoughts that flow in and out of my mind. Visions. Of you. All bad. All sad. Nothing good. Your smile does not fill my heart. Only grief. Only pain. Only the ever flowing sadness of losing you, that consumes me. Everything is jumbled.

Cupcakes for a friend. A birthday. But not yours. Balloons. Not for you? But always for you. A play date for your brothers. With a 4-year old, but it wasn’t you? A storm. The first storm, without you to cuddle up to. A run instead? To avoid the pain. A run, after the storm at 8:30 p.m. in the dark, alone, from our house, very fast, all the way to PCH and back?? How did I end up there? 10 miles there and back from our house. I think. I couldn’t stop. I tried to find you but you weren’t there. Happy laughs from your brothers. Smiles so true. But how is that possible, without you? Bittersweet. Rage. Disbelief. Has everyone forgotten?

An email from school. A Fall Party. A Harvest Festival. Volunteers needed. Of course I sign up. Wait. A Fall Party? Don’t they mean, Halloween? No. They do not. It’s specific. Words printed right there in black and white. “Please keep in mind, the district does not want the focus of our party, to be Halloween.” What? Really? Who the fuck are the assholes who got, “Halloween,” kicked out of school?Because they must have worked really fucking hard, to make this happen. WOW. I wish schools would take Childhood Cancer, a little more seriously, than Halloween. I wish schools would be a little more offended, by their future kids, getting sick and or dying, from Cancer, than fucking Halloween. I wish the schools would take the time, to EDUCATE, kids on things like Childhood Cancer, instead of protecting them from Halloween. I bet our future generation, would grow up more compassionate, kind, loving, forgiving, helpful, smart, and all around, better people if they knew a little more, about Childhood Cancer. Instead of being sheltered from the world, by not being able to celebrate fucking Halloween at school. Really? We are really more offended by Halloween, than of Ronan dying? Than of all the sick little boys and girls, surviving, hurting, being scared, sad, ignored, tossed away, treated like LAB RATS and DYING? DID YOU HEAR WHAT I SAID?? DYING?? Who is making these rules? Who is wasting their time and energy of things that have such little importance or significance? Fucking idiots, that’s who.

Conversations that really happened. I could not make this shit up: Once again. Names have been altered, to protect the innocent. Except for mine of course. Slander my name. Throw me under the bus. I’ll survive. Worse things, could happen. Right? Yes. As we all know, much worse.

Number 1)

Silly Bug- “Mom, when Dad comes to our school to talk about his job, he’s going to say he’s a lawyer. If you come, you can say that your job is to take care of 2 boys all day long.”

Me- “Wait. What? 2 boys. No silly, bug. Not two boys. Three boys. You, Quinn and Ronan. Always Ronan.”

Number 2)

Silly Bug number 2-“But why, Mom. Why do you have to go see Dr. J today? Why do you have to leave us to go and talk to her.”

Me-“Because my son just died that’s why! My son, and your brother and I need someone to talk to! How do you not understand that?!”

Ummmm…. because they are 8, dumbass. Because you are so good at playing pretend, that mommy is going to be alright.

(insert guilty worst mom ever pressure internal monologue here) “Wait. Did I just snap at my kids? Did I really, just respond to them, with that answer, in that tone of voice? Was that even me? The calm, cool, I don’t yell rather I explain in depth, we talk it out, but now I’ve turned into the spawn of the Devil, Mom?? Yup. You did. And you’re not even going to apologize. Your going to roll with it. There is no going back and sugar-coating to the sweetest ever 8-year-old boys. You did it. You don’t ever do it. OWN IT. Life is tough. And sometimes, 8 year olds, need to be reminded of that because they are so resilient. It is amazing how resilient. I am thankful, for that resilience. The resilience that is so bittersweet. They won’t forget you. I know that. But sometimes I forget. And sometimes, it is hard to watch them, going on as if you were never here. As if you are still here, and never gone. It leaves me confused. Perplexed. Wandering about, in a state of mourning and grief, that only seems to be getting worse. Day by day. Minute by minute. The emotional anesthetics is slowly wearing off. I thought it had already worn off? Nope. You were tricked. You were fooled. It’s only getting more and more painful.

Push away. Isolation but not really. Out in the world. So busy. So many tasks. A real smile exists every so often. By chance most times. When they happen, they are authentic and they make my heart feel light and breezy. The lady who tells me she used to only get French manicures, on her fingernails, but is loving her bright, crazy colors, like the Bubble Gum Hot pink she has plastered all over her fingers and toenails. I think it must be, because of you. The little girl. The brave little girl who goes in front of her ENTIRE school, to give a speech and says she thought of YOU the entire time. That was you. I know it was you. The applications that I read for the model search. About the little girl that cut off her hair, and gave it to her cousin, who has Cancer. The little girl, who had her Daddy drive all the way from Tuscon, to fill her’s out. The people who stop me, to tell me that they will fight for you, for the rest of you their lives and they didn’t even know you. The Busy Little Bees of mine, who come swarming in, no questions asked, when I need help. All whispers from you. “Mama. I’m still here. Mama. You have to be strong. Mama. I’ll never leave you. Mama. My spirit still exists. Mama. I love you.” I hear your little whispers, ever so faintly.

A session with Dr. J.

A session that I think I cried for almost the entire two hours. A session where she asked me to read my letter out loud to Dr. Kushner. She asked me. She pulled me. She didn’t push me. A letter that I did not think I could write. I almost couldn’t. But I did. My uncensored letter. The raw, uncut version which was titled, “Dear Dr. You Killed my Son, Kushner.” A letter that needed to be written. Words that needed to be said. Valid or not, they needed to be said. For you. And for me. Because all it would have taken was a simple, “I’m so sorry. I failed you. Your son, is dying. There is nothing I can do. I tried my hardest.” Instead I got no eye contact, and thrown out of that hospital, like we were yesterdays garbage. Never to be thought of again. Not acceptable in my book. So, I channeled my inner rage, pain, guilt, and sadness in that letter. I could have written 20 pages, but had to stop when I could physically take no more. The words are there, in black and white. They will be sent. Someday. In an edited version. With your obituary. Then an unedited version, will follow. Someday. For you. For I am your voice as shaky as it may be. Someday I will be able to read that letter out loud, to Dr. J while looking her in the eyes. I will read that letter out loud to her in strong and powerful voice. Not in the way I read it out loud to her a few nights ago. Crying. Tears spilling all over the paper. Stopping. Starting. So much pain. Too much pain. Is that even possible??

Number 3)

Me- “Are you o.k.? I’m so sorry. What do you need? What can I do.”

S- “I’m o.k. There is nothing you can do. You know what. I’m wrong. There is something you can do. You can keep being amazing. You can keep being the remarkable young woman that you are. Please don’t ever stop that. You are amazing. Promise?”

Me- Tears spilling. Face black. Forgot to wear my fucking waterproof mascara. “Yeah. O.k. I promise.”

Heart heavy. Filled with Hope. The nudge I needed when I need it most. Always. Always. One of the few reasons that I am still here. A smile exists. Truly exists. You know. I know you know, Ro. You’ve always known.

Number 4)

Little Bug number 1- “MOM!!! Can you cook those pre made cookies for us today, for when we get home from school? Please! They have spiders on them!!”

Me: “Of course I can, Buddy! Because I’m SUPERMOM!”

2:30 p.m. rolls around. Fuck. Pick kids up in T-30 minutes. Throw cookies in oven for 10 minutes. Forget to set timer. Go to bedroom. Sink in bed for 25 minutes. Don’t sleep. Sit. Quiet. Still. Cry. What’s that smell coming from the kitchen? It’s nothing. 2:55 rolls around. Time to get boys! Jump out of bed. Ummmm… I smell smoke. Where is that coming from? OH MY GOD YOU DUMBASS! You burnt the fucking cookies! The fucking pre made cookies that are impossible to mess up and destroy. Well mama, you destroyed those to a crisp today. Black. I scrubbed the cookie sheet. Threw the cookies outside in the garbage as to destroy the evidence. It didn’t work. 5 hours later and our house still smells like burnt cookies. Good thing 8 year olds are so forgiving.

Number 4)

W- goes to turn on the T.V. ::::::: Your cable service, has been disconnected. Please call 1800 blahblahblah to have it reinstalled.”
W- looks at me like I am the devil. ” Did you seriously not pay the cable bill?” I mean really? Babe. You know before you do all your other “stuff,” that the bills need to be paid, right??”

Inca- (my alter ego, sassy pants name) FIts of giggles. Laughter. “Wait. Your going to get that upset, over the Cable Bill? Do you think if I called up COX and told them that our son just died of Cancer, that they would give me a Hall Pass?? Because I think that should qualify. Can you tell them, that the woman who is in charge of paying the bills is now a BEREAVED mother, so everyone at COX can be put on HIGH ALERT and she can be cut a little slack?? Just a little??”

W- Did not think that was funny. Played the responsible, mature role as always.

I had paid the bill, that day. I knew it was late. I was just hoping I had paid it on time, for it not to get shut off. I didn’t. Tragedy. I could care less if I never watch T.V. again as it irritants me like no other. Useless stagnate noise to fill the voids within ourselves. Pleasure? From T.V. Really? Or avoidance from the reality of all the beauty that surrounds us, but we choose to ignore. Or avoidance from our pain? Relaxing? Maybe. Not to a mom, whom has lost her son. T.V. is pure static. Pure torture. Unnecessary noise. Anxiety. Time that we always spent together, Ro. T.V. time. “Mickey Mouse Club House.” “Max and Ruby.” “Clone Wars.” “Glee.” Our favorites. Now the shows still play. I want to throw up every time Mickey Mouse Club House comes on the screen. You should be watching it on my lap, eating you eggies. Why are you not? Where are you? Can anyone, explain any of this to me? Do you still have your children? Oh, they are outside, playing. Oh, they are at soccer practice. Oh, they are picking you flowers.” Well, darn it then. You cannot explain it to me. You cannot tell me everything happens for a reason. You cannot tell me how I should or should not be grieving. You cannot fix this. No one can. Unless you can bring him back. Unless you can rewind time to before he died. If you can do that, than we can talk. I’d live in that world, the not sick, the sick, the cancer sick, the cancer not getting better; but not the he’s dying from cancer, world. I’d live in every one of those worlds, for the rest of my life, except that one. I don’t ever want to have to watch my son, die over and over again. Except I do. Because it replays in my head as if I am at a theatre, watching a movie. The same movie, over and over again.

Dear Faithful Followers of this Blog,

Are you still out there? Have you gone away? I hope I didn’t worry you too much. I hope I didn’t scare you with this jippity jumpity blog post. I know I was a little all over the place. I told Woody I had not written in 3 days. He asked how that made me feel. I told him anxious. Very anxious. I’ve had too many things going on in my head to keep them cooped up for that long. When I release them, it’s like a flood of words, feelings, thoughts, all discombobulated. All wild and free which is just where I need to be because , All good things are wild and free, right? I so believe this to the core of my soul. Of the core to Ronan’s soul. My other favorite quote, “Life’s no way to treat an animal.” Vonnegut knows it better than anyone. I so appreciate that. I so appreciate all you. Forgive my lack of communication as far as messages, emails, Facebook’s…… I’ve taken on a lot. Emotionally, Physically, Mentally…. I feel like I’m drowning again. Dr. J is going to print out little flyers for me that simply say, “FUCK OFF! MY KID JUST DIED! SO NO, I WON”T DO THAT!” Brilliant woman she is.

If you have not heard from me this week, it’s not because I’m ignoring you. It’s because I honestly have so many emails, that I am scared to open them all up. I am going designate a day, to do this and go through them all, properly. Thank you for sending them. I can’t wait to read them. I’m sure there is much amazingness to come from them. So THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!!!!

Less is more. Busy is o.k. but not busy the way I have been busy. Ronan. You should see our laundry room. The one that is always perfectly spotless as Im always caught up on the laundry. I have piles of clean clothes, everywhere back there. Spilling out of the baskets, the sink, on top of the dryer. Obviously you know I’ve been way too busy if this is happening. I’m a laundry freak and obsess over it. Not this week. Apparently this week the our little laundry fairy (me) decided not to show up. We will have to dock her pay!

YOWZWER RO! It’s a novel tonight! Time to say G’night my little Boo. I love you. Your Daddy loves you. Your brothers love you. We all miss you. We are all hurting over you. We will hurt over you for the rest of our lives. But lives that you are going to shape for us to live, so we can live with the most potential possible. Because to live any other way would be pointless and shameful.

I love you, RO. I love you to the moon and back. Just me and you, Baby. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I hope you are safe. You are so very loved.

xoxo

Ro Baby……

I’m sooooo sleepy. Too tired to write. Too tired to tell you how I kicked Inferno Fuckwad Bob’s ass today, hiking Camelback. Too tired to tell you about the amazing little girls I met today. Too tired to tell you about the awesome mama, who let’s her 5th grader, Jaden, wear the naughty version of your bracelet. Too tired to tell you how hanging out @ Garage with Katie, makes me feel happy and close to you.

But never too tired to tell you I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.

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Your Sparkle will Shine Forever

I’m not sleeping. I can’t. Could you? Could you sleep, without being able to kiss your baby goodnight? Knowing that the place that he once slept, is empty. Knowing that his little closet, filled with his clothes and shoes, will never be worn by him again. Could you sleep? Could you drift off into a peaceful place even for a few hours, to escape the nightmare? For me, it is physically impossible.

So, I sit here instead. Wishing so badly, that he would come running into my room in the middle of the night, just because he missed me. Wishing to be able to complain about the sleepless night I had the night before, because he was up all night, with just the flu. Wishing I would be exhausted tomorrow, because I had him to take care of all night long. Not because of the fact that I cannot sleep, because he is dead.

DEAD.

MY CHILD IS DEAD

What that does that even mean?

I GOOGLED IT. Too many raw things appeared. But nothing as raw and painful of having you not here.

I FOUND THIS. IT IS AN INTERNAL SCRIPT FOR PARENTS WHOM HAVE LOST A CHILD. What they may be thinking and feeling.

I concur.

  • I have failed my child.
  • I can’t live without seeing my child’s face.
  • I can’t live in a world where my child is a statistic now.
  • No one needs me now. My life has lost purpose.
  • My future – as a mother, as a father, as a step-parent, as a grandparent – died with my child.
  • I have regrets for things not said/done/realized before the death.
  • I should have prevented it.
  • I am alone. Other people grieve, but cannot share MY grief or make it less. They do not understand the depths of my grief.
  • My energy is gone. My will to live is gone. All around me, I see and feel the sadness and emptiness.
  • The world failed me. God failed me.
  • I am only living now for my other (children, spouse, partner, family, friends, profession). I am no longer living a life worth living for me.
  • I failed my child. (It usually begins and ends with this)
I know all of this. I believe everything above to be true. It is my life every single second of the day. I read the words. They make me sad. I take a break from Googling all things morbid, twisted and dark. An email pops up on my screen. I open it. I read it. I smile. I laugh. I cry. I have goosebumps. I feel alive. It’s from somebody I don’t know. There are a lot of those somebody’s now. This somebody made me feel proud of who I am. This somebody reminded me that although your little physical body is gone, Ronan. Your sparkle will stay here, forever. Thank you for this, to this M.o.M.M <3

Maya,

Im sure you get HUNDREDS of msgs on here as well as thru your email, FB, and your foundation but I feel like I need to write to you. You may not read this but I want you to know that Ro and YOU, Ms.Mama Maya are MAKING SHIT HAPPEN!!!!

I was not sent to your blog by a fellow reader, I dont know anyone personally (except for EVERYONE I have turned on to the blog since) that followed your blog or knew you personally, no one i know even knew of you or Ro before May 27th 2011 when I was sitting in the living room and happened to be browsing came across a post that had just been written, titled ‘Learning how to Live Half-Alive’. I had to click on it and see just what this post was and if it STOOD up to some of my fav lyrics.

Well, imagine my shock when not only did the blog stand up, it OUTSHINED anything i have EVER in this world even imagined of feeling. Tears sprang to my eyes, I felt like I had been punched in the gut, the wind knocked out of me, my mind could not wrap around the possibility that this was REAL LIFE and not just a blurb for the latest fiction novel from Jodi Picoult.

After reading that first post I clicked on the Baby Ronan link and within seconds had tears POURING down my face. I instantly had to know WHO this baby boy was that had ALREADY captured my heart? Can you believe that Maya? My whole sense of being ACHED for this baby whom I had NEVER even seen a picture of. I felt numb, my head was aching. I couldn’t believe that YOU were somewhere in this world hurting the way i was X’s a GAZILLION. I couldnt even (and still can’t) IMAGINE a pain that fierce. Right then and there The Thompson’s became a part of my family and heart.

My friends on my fb are re-posting my posts on childhood cancer, people are asking my kids and myself about our RockstarRonan bracelets, to which my 6-year-old replies, Ronan is the BRIGHTEST STAR IN THE SKY BABY!! http://www.rockstarronan.com. He’s a lil walking bill board for Ro and this horrible disease.

Next FUCKTEMBER I will be walking around with Info cards about childhood cancer and the BIGGEST sharpie i can find so that EVERY breast cancer sign I see gets graffitti’d on with KIDS GET CANCER TOO!! (sorry had to vent that it has been driving me crazy seeing Breast cancer start gearing up for OCT and trying to take the light from these BABIES who put all of their faith and trust into ADULTS who are supposed to be caring for and watching out for them?! and yet MOST turn a blind eye because it’s just too ugly. . . I honestly would not like to know the person who can look at RO, hear his story and simply walk away and DO NOTHING??)

I know that I have been rambling in this letter to you and I’m sorry. I really just wanted to let you know that you Ms. Maya and your A M A Z I N G baby Ro have touched the heart of a random stranger thousands of miles away and I will be by your side in this FIGHT of kicking cancers ASS every step of the way! I hope that one day our paths cross and I can meet you and hear some ‘spicy’ monkey stories, golf in some funky TUTU’s, blaring some Katy Perry while doing ALL things ROCKSTAR (:

Im so happy to read when you have a ‘good’ day, that means that even just a LIL bit of what I have been praying and wishing for you is starting to break thru the HELL you are living.

Love,

A MoMM <3333

PS. My grandma was THE BEST grandma in the WHOLE world!!! There is not a day that goes by that I dont think of her. Since she is no longer ‘here’ with me I KNOW that she is with Ro and since she was the best in the whole world she is DEF the best in ALL of the HEAVENS and she is taking care of Ro for you until you can. . . and she’s a stickler for brushing teeth and a SOFTY when it comes to rocking babies and snuggles <3

Bubbles galore. Just for you. Who cares that Quinn flooded everything? He did it, for you.

Fight Like a Rockstar

Ronan. Hi baby. I’m missing you so much tonight. But what’s new. The missing part of you is constant and is something that never goes away. The weekend is almost over. Thankfully. It was fine. O.k. Alright. I did my best. I had a lot of busy work to tend to. Busy work that I keep telling myself is going to get us somewhere. Busy work that I keep telling myself, is going to make a difference. Busy work that I know you would be proud of. If I didn’t have this busy work, I would be sitting around, pulling my hair out. I would be in the corner, curled up in a ball, in my bedroom not wanting to come out. Not just some days, but every single day.

Sunday Funday. Right? No. Sundays that I hate. Sundays that are filled with an eerie stillness that I detest. I stayed in bed until 1 p.m. Yup. You heard me. I could not fall asleep last night. I tried. I wrestled with my sadness/anger/tears, until 4 a.m. I almost punched your Daddy just because I was so annoyed that he was sleeping so peacefully next to me. I don’t know how I pass the never-ending time that exists during the night. If I am going to be a Vampire/Zombie, I am going to have to start coming up with some productive things to do, besides listening to the screaming inside of my head. I need a crazy, productive hobby. I think I need to make a “Go To,” list for the nights that I am so restless of things that I can do. You know how I LOVE a list.

I made myself get up out of bed today. I took Quinn and we ran some errands. We went to Target. Your favorite place. As soon as we were walking in, there was a lady who was in front of us who was getting her cart. She was bald. I took off my “F U Cancer,” bracelet and simply said, “I have something for you.” I gave your bracelet to her. I don’t think she even read what it said as she quickly just gave me a thank you. I needed nothing more. I hope your bracelet makes her even more mad at cancer and it makes her work harder, to fight harder, like a Rockstar. Like you always did. Like I will continue to do, for you.

Strolling through the aisles of Target today…..ugh. I cannot concentrate enough to navigate my way through that store anymore. Everything in it reminds me of you. Happy, lovely Target. Full of your Paul Frank Monkey friend, Julius. Full of your Star Wars guys. Full of your Burt’s Bee’s Coconut Soap that I used to wash you with. Full of the Slurpies that I would always have to buy you, just to get you to sit in the cart. But you never did. You would have hung on the side of the cart instead. You would have tried to ride one of the display bicycles. You would have hidden from me in the racks of clothes. Your giggles would have filled the entire store and made my heart skip a beat. They always did. Today, I took Quinn there instead. Quinn my little helper who takes on the responsibility of pushing the cart, trying to pick up the case of water for me, and who helps me remember the list of things I needed, because I left my physical list, at home. If it would not have been for Quinn today, I would come home without the little list of things we needed. I would have abandoned our cart to cry in the car instead. Thank you, for him.

After we left Target, I told Quinn we needed to go to Smart and Final. He was annoyed and wanted to know why we had to go there and why we couldn’t get all of our drinks, at Target. I told him that Smart and Final is the best place to buy Liam’s Gatorade and that they are the only place I can find my Mango/Peach Coconut Water. He tried to talk me out of going, but I didn’t listen. Oh, how very happy I am that I insisted on going to Smart and Final today. It made my miserable Sunday, absolutely amazing. We got into the store and of course we got the cart that just didn’t work right. Quinn was laughing at me because I insisted that we would just make the best of it and use the cart that only wanted to turn right. I came up with some amazing there is a lesson in everything, kind of metaphor for him. Something along the lines of working through a tough situation and making the best of it. I made him laugh when I crashed into the Gatorade aisle. I told him I was not giving up on our crazy cart, to trade it in for a new one. I don’t know what I was trying to accomplish with this at the time as it would have been so easy to just go and get a new cart. There is a lesson in everything, right? At least that is what I was trying to explain to your already too worldly/knowledgable about life, 8-year-old little brother today.

As we were checking out, I noticed the side of the counter was lined with little flyers that read, “Kids 4 Hope.” Hmmmm….. I thought as I went to read the fine print. I thought to myself, I’m sure it has something to do with anything but Pediatric Cancer. I almost passed out when I saw that each dollar donated, was in fact donated to funds for Pediatric Cancer. I asked the girl who was scanning my items, what exactly this was for. She told me you could purchase a flyer in someone’s name, for a dollar, for Childhood Cancer. I had to take a minute to absorb the amazingness of this. After a few seconds, I said, “Can I buy 50?” She looked stunned. She replied back, “50? Really? You want to buy 50 of these?” “Absolutely,” I told her. Quinn sat back, quietly observing. The girl counted out 50 little flyers and I than told her that you, my son, had passed away from Childhood Cancer. She got quiet, handed me the 50 flyers, a pink Sharpie, and some tape. She asked how old you were. I told her 3. She told me she has a 3-year-old, and could not imagine.

After I paid for our items, I moved over to the other counter where Quinn and I stood and wrote your name on all the donation flyers. I looked over and the girl who had helped me, and she was ringing up her other customers as the store was super busy. She was bawling. That in turn, made me start to cry, and your poor brother Quinn….. he did not know what to do. I did not know what to do, so I just continued to cry and fill out your name. I tried not to get angry at all the customers who said they would NOT like to donate a dollar to Childhood Cancer. It took everything I had not to pull up your picture, shove it in their faces, and ask what was wrong with them! It was only a dollar! You were worth so much than a dollar! And it’s for kids! Who in the world says no to that?!?! As I witnessed today, a lot of people. It just goes to show you how much the lack of awareness for Childhood Cancer, truly does effect the outcome. People won’t even give up a dollar. Standing in that Smart and Final today, I vowed to myself, once again, to make this change.

I went over and talked to the sweet girl that rang up my groceries today. I asked what her name was. She told me it was Ida. I told her how beautiful it was. I gave her one of your bracelets. I asked to speak to her manager because I wanted to ask him how much he knew about where this money was actually going. He came out, I introduced myself, and he didn’t know much. He went back to get the print out that the store was given for this Kids 4 Hope. I told him I was amazed that they were doing this in their store, for the ENTIRE month of October as this is unheard of due to Susan G. Komen. Everything for the month of October, goes towards Breast Cancer research. I thanked him and practically skipped out of that store today with our wobbly cart. I told Ida I would see her soon.

I came home and googled the handout I was given. It’s legit. You can read about the boys who started this, below.

Troy and Jake Paul are two Los Angeles natives who combined their passion for basketball and their desire to help other kids when they formed their charity, Kids 4 Hope.

When their mother Renee was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago, Troy, now 13, began collecting bottles from local businesses and neighbors in order to raise money for his mother’s newly started charity,Racing For Hope, which benefits City of Hope. “We recycled the bottles and made $1,200,” Troy says, “and we gave the money to our parents’ charity.” But from that point on, Troy says, “we realized we wanted to be able to raise more money, and wanted to branch out and start our own charity.”

The desire to help children suffering from cancer came when the boys saw what their mother went through as she battled the disease. Jake, now 16, says they saw “how hard [battling cancer] can be for an adult, but trying to grasp a young kid going through that–I couldn’t even imagine what that would be like.”

This led the Paul brothers to start Kids 4 Hope, which, according to its website, “is dedicated to raising funds to support City of Hope’s research, treatment and special programs for all of the children battling cancer.”

In order to raise money, the boys turned to their biggest passion–basketball–and decided to create an event that would be both fun and charitable. “We wanted a way to put our own personal touch on the charity, rather than just raise money with a regular fundraiser,” Jake says, “so we incorporated something we both like, which is basketball, and made it a fun way for kids to help other kids.”

Jake and Troy Paul hope both Kids 4 Hope and its events will inspire other kids to take up causes they can enjoy also. “Of course we would love to raise money through this charity,” Troy says, “but hopefully kids can see what we do and take something they love and incorporate that into a way to help people.”

Their advice for kids looking to start charities of their own or looking to get involved in a good cause? “Find something that you’re passionate about, because it’s great to help kids, but it’s easier if you are doing something you love,” Jake advises. “The main idea is any way a person can help is positive. You are helping someone else, so do something that makes it seem like more fun than work.”

Can I kiss these two boys, please? I would like to kiss Smart and Final while I’m at it. Look at how these two young boys, took something that they believed in, and made it into something so beautiful.Well, I believe in something, Ronan. I believe in YOU. I believe that you truly are going to change the face of this disease so that someday, there will be a cure. I really needed to be reminded of this today, Ronan. That anything is possible. Well, almost anything, Ro. You know what I mean by that, baby.

Alright my lovie. I have to try to shut off this mushy brain of mine for the night. I’ve got an early running call in the a.m. I love you to the moon and back. I hope you are safe. G’nite my Babydoll.

xoxo

Calling all Rockstars!

Model submissions will begin Monday, October 3rd, at 10 a.m. and end on Friday, October 7th at 7 p.m. Applications must be filled out by the child at the Garage Boutique for Kids and “Rockstars,” must be an Arizona resident. We would like the kiddos, who want the chance to be participate, to be old enough to sit down and fill out the application (it’s o.k. if they need a little help;). The model lineup will be announced Sunday, October 9th, via the Garage Boutique Facebook Page through a live, random drawing. Each model selected will be required to raise a minimum of $200.00 dollars to help in the fight against Pediatric Cancer.

Please save the date of November 10th, 2011 at 7:00 p.m. for this Rockstar Event. Tickets will be available to purchase for $25.00 dollars, per person, after our models are selected. Your ticket purchase will get you into the event, to watch the Fashion Show, and enjoy all of the other surprises we are putting together. We are working very hard to make this night a very fun filled family affair, for all ages.  All inquiries regarding this event should be submitted via email to rockstar@garageboutique.com

Additional details to follow soon. We are can’t wait to see you all for a night full of all things Rockstar!!!

xoxo

Ronan and Jack

Jack has Neuroblastoma. He is on his 3rd relapse. He is beautiful. Ronan spent hours, playing Legos with him in NYC at our friend, Barbra’s house who runs http://www.candlelightersnyc.org

Jack is still fighting. His mama wrote to me tonight. It touched my soul. She met Ronan only once, but he impacted her life, forever. This is how special he was. I’ll never forget Jack. Ronan was missing his brothers so much and Jack filled that void for a couple of hours. I remember being so happy, seeing my baby so happy to have an older friend to play with. Jack is so special, like Ronan. He had those sparkling eyes that say it all.

Thanks to his mama for reaching out to me tonight. Friends Forever. Bonded in a way that I know will make a difference in this ugly fight. Kiss your babe for us. Ronan will look after him. Thank you for loving Ro and never forgetting him. This is from Jack’s Mama, Francesca<3<3 Thanks for giving me strength when I need it most. Thanks for reminding me to never give up when all I want to do is crumble to the floor. Thanks for understanding that when I do crumble, I will get back up.

Dear Maya..
I follow your every word on your posts each time you write. I had the pleasure of meeting you, Ronan, and Fernanda at Barbara’s… My son speaks of Ronan often after they made tattoos. It made my heart melt as Ro could just ” hang” with Jack, who were his brothers ages that night. I remember seeing you and hoping you would get in that ‘run’ for release. I have seen so many fams over the years sitting on that couch, and I GOT YOU… I knew where you were coming from…. Time passed, and I was given the news Ronan was gone… I was devastated, and have not missed a beat since. I still have his pic on my phone from the stickers and now have the most beautiful pic of Ronan that you have posted added to my fridge of angels…I need a bigger fucking fridge for all I have met and lost from this disease. I love your words… You hit the nail on the head everytime. I have lived at Sloan for 8 years and I have seen alot. I am proud of you… Your grace… And your downright emotions about this fucking disease… You say everything we all want to say…I think of you everyday… I am so sorry you lost your beautiful boy… And he was gorgeous…please know he is NOT forgotten, nor is your family. I pray he is with your husband, you, and your beautiful twins always…we continue to fight for you all and many others through my son JACK. … We are friends now and always, no matter fucked up mess of cancer got us here. I met you and your son once.. But I love you forever….Fuck Cancer… I get it.. And I have your back…..