Ronan. I am really, really hoping that I am not truly losing my mind from the pain of losing you. I am really, really, hoping that this pain, which is already intolerable, only feels as if as if it is on steroids, just due to the fact that Christmas is almost here. I am trying hard to be logical about this. Who cares about stupid Christmas? Why is it because Christmas is here, that it is making this 10 times harder than normal? I have been doing a lot of talking to myself because Inferno Fuckwad Bob is trying to completely take over. I had this conversation in my head tonight about how much pressure the holidays bring anyway when you are a normal human being. Now, try doing these holidays when your child is dead. I am trying not to panic about the many reactions my body is having…… which I swear I have no control over. The throwing up. The blurry vision. The headaches. The insomnia. The racing of my heart. The shaking of my hands. The way I can’t seem to breathe. The way every part of my body hurts. Even the tips of my fingers. I feel like I should be admitted to a hospital. Can’t they sedate me and put me on oxygen, too? So I can breathe a little more easily? Can’t they just put me to sleep for about a week? I deserve a little break from this or else I am going to crack. Maybe I am starting to crack and these are the warning signs.
No amount of physical exhaustion is helping either. And it normally does. This morning I got up early and met Mandy Bee for a workout at some place she goes. I don’t remember much of it except we did a lot of picking up heavy tires, ropes, and punched a boxing bag. Afterwords, I was shaky and I hopped in her car as she talked me into going to Starbucks. I think she was really afraid to let me up and just drive home as I know she saw the sheer look of terror in my eyes. She drove me to Starbucks but she had to pull over right in front so I could run into the bathroom because I told her I was going to throw up. I did. A whole lot of liquid as I had nothing else in my stomach. I brushed my teeth in that Starbucks bathroom as I now carry a toothbrush with me everywhere because I am so used to this happening. We sat outside and drank our coffee and made small talk with some south african guy. The small talk turned into the how many kids do you have, question. I let Mandy answer first. My turn next. Lucky me. “Two eight year olds. And an almost 4-year-old who just passed away.” Good thing the dude was wearing sunglasses so I didn’t have to see the look in his eyes. I’ll never get used to saying this to people when they ask this question to me now. I always take a minute to answer and think to myself….”There has got to be a better way, to say this.” Turns out, there is not. It will never just roll off of my tongue.
I found myself on my bedroom floor today, huddled in the corner of my room and on the phone with Dr. JoRo, bawling so hard I don’t think she could even understand much of what I was saying. I told her how I couldn’t breathe, how I wanted to just go to sleep, and how tired I was of everything. I stayed this way for about 10 minutes. I then told her I had to go because it was time to be a mom and I was taking your brothers rock climbing. I had to play the good mommy role and suck it up. All I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and not come out. I didn’t though. I sucked it up and pulled myself together as they were so excited to be off and doing something with me. We went with Kristi and her gorgeous girls. I loved watching your brothers as they tried something new. I tried not to let the fact that you weren’t there with us, ruin everything. I made myself climb to the top of that rock wall today. Actually, Kristi really made me do it as I was content to just sit and watch your brothers. I was glad she did. I was halfway up and decided to turn around and look down. Bloody hell it was high up there. I almost stopped and turned around. A vision of your face flashed in front of me and I looked up and made myself continue on, to the very top until I touched the metal little pole that proved I did it. I know you were proud. As Kristi said, one more thing on my little list, checked off. I thought to myself…… yes indeed. But I wondered how long I could really keep all of this up. I’m still glad to have that little check mark off of my list. I did it for you and for your brothers. Because they deserve to have a mom who hasn’t completely checked out. I know I am being hard on myself but I also know that your brothers saw me as I cried in the car all the way home. I wish I could hide my pain from them all the time, but sometimes it is impossible. It is so hard to look them in the eyes when it is so visible to them, that I am hurting so badly. No 8-year-old should have to watch their mama wiping away the never-ending tears. But no 8-year-old should have to ever watch their best friend and baby brother, die of cancer either. It is all fucking bullshit.
We came home tonight to your daddy. I ran to the bathroom where I threw up the dinner I tried to eat. I took a bath and crawled into bed. Your daddy, sat with me and just held my hand while I stared blankly at the wall as the hot stinging tears poured down my cheeks and soaked my pillow. He took your brothers out to run some errands. I fell asleep for about 30 minutes. I jumped up, startled, when my body realized that I had fallen asleep and reminded me of how wrong everything is in this life now, including things like sleep. No rest for the weary.
I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you so very much. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams, baby doll. I love you to the moon and back.