Ronan. Happy Fucking New Year. No. There will never be anything “Happy,” about it again. This is how I know I will never be normal again. This is how I know, I will continue to live in Zombieland. Because everything stings so much that I can’t be among the living. Everyone is so busy being happy. It’s as if they have all forgotten about you. But what do I expect? For everybody to take this year off, from celebrating their beautiful lives? For the ball not to drop in New York City? Exactly. I told you life goes on for others.
We are back home and I’ll admit it, I’m acting like a brat. We got home on the night of our 10 year anniversary and I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t fake it at all. The happiness that I am supposed to feel. I am thankful….. For as much as I can be. But feeling happy just does not exist. Your daddy didn’t ask much, but the little he asked, I couldn’t do. All he wanted was some acknowledgment that our 10 years was a big deal. I gave him my snarky commentary about why the fuck does everyone make such a big deal about 10 years, when every year should be just as sacred and valued. I begged him to please just skip over the 10 years and next year we could do something nice. I don’t want to celebrate anything when everything feels so wrong. He told me he had a gift for me which made me lose it even more as I specifically told him there was nothing I wanted. He said he knew, but it was something he wanted me to have anyway. I pretty purple amethyst ring. I told him to take it back. He told me he wanted me to know how much he loved me. I begged and pleaded with him to take it away and told him I didn’t need things to know how much he loved me. That I already knew and would always know. He insisted that you would love for me to have it and that you would have told me how “cute,” I looked wearing it. I just laid in bed and sobbed while I kept one eye on your Urn. I made him take the ring away and told him I wasn’t worthy of pretty things because I let you die. I fell asleep in a puddle of my own tears. I had spent the day being so proud of myself for the stupidest things that I used to be able to do, in my sleep. I got your brothers from Portland to Phoenix, safe and sound, all by myself. I checked in our luggage. We had dinner at the airport. We made it through security, to our flight, and home. This is a big thing to accomplish, when you have a dead child. Traveling with 2, not 3 little guys was such a mental head game, that I really don’t know how I did it. But I did and I of course, did a fucking good job. Gold star for me. After we landed in Phoenix, I listened to myself, telling myself in my head, what a good job I had done. Then I went to, are you FUCKING kidding me? This is something that you now get to be proud of? Something you used to be able to do in your sleep? What kind of fuckery is this? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s the most fucking fucked kind of fuckery that exists. It is my life now.
I ran around all day Friday, catching up on things and being pissed off that I was wearing a strapless dress because it was hot enough in January, to do so. Bloody hell. Where was my rainy gloomy weather that is so able to explain how I feel, without me having to say a word? Where were my rain boots and dirty, muddy puddles of tears? The tears that I was able to take a break from crying because the weather was able to cry for me just for a bit so I let it. They were back in Washington, that’s where. So, I spent all Friday, running about being blinded by the fake plastic trees of this world that I feel like kicking the shit out of. Where I have to put on my fake, sunny smile because that’s what the weather wants me to do but Ro, I don’t want to do it. I want to go and live in my underground world with all the other bereaved parents of the world where happiness and sunshine no longer exist. I don’t want to have to listen to the others in the world as they complain about their bad days which include things like getting a flat tire or their nanny being sick. When I hear these things it is all I can do to not cover my ears and drop down into the fetal position. Maybe I should just start doing that. I wonder how different this world would be if we all acted the way we felt really felt instead of hiding everything behind our lipgloss and dark sunglasses. I’ll bet it would be a complete mess but at least it would be a TRUE complete mess and not so fake and insincere. I was also having some major mom guilt on Friday so one of my errands included going to the grocery store. You know how much I hate this now, Ro. I freeze up, freak out, and panic. I made myself do it because the thought of your brothers living off of processed food any longer is destroying me. I don’t cook anymore, unless you count cereal, frozen pizza, fruit or veggies. Your daddy has taken over the majority of the cooking. It is something that I used to live for back in the days when you were here and you were my favorite little helper. The two of us, cooking together, was my heaven. I wanted to make your daddy feel good by coming home to a home cooked meal, like he used to. The one he deserves to come home to, every night. I made it half way through my shopping, panicked over some mom who was pushing her little boy in the cart and almost abandoned all of my groceries to bolt for my car. I took a deep breath and stopped myself from doing so. I had to talk myself through every next step in order to get to finish up the shopping and get to the checkout line. I couldn’t get out of there, fast enough. I came home and whipped up dinner, without a recipe or anything. Just from memory only. The one that does not really exist anymore. I made your daddy and brothers, homemade Shepard’s Pie. Your daddy said it was the best one I had ever made and wanted to know what I had done differently. I wanted to tell him how the only thing I did differently was cry the entire time I was making it because I couldn’t stop thinking about how you wouldn’t be there, to eat it with us. Sitting down, at our dinner table with your seat, empty is also something that just kills me. So, I may have made dinner, but I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough for the plans I had made a few days in advance.
I spent Friday night with some girls which I never take the time to do anymore either. We didn’t go out, but rather stayed in, instead. I picked up Mandy Bee and we headed out to Kristi’s house for a special night which of course was inspired by you. The best nights, always are. I know you were there, I know you saw and that’s all I’m saying about our night, for now. It was a true rock and roll night, in the most innocent way possible. It was a night that for as painful as it was, I actually felt myself having fun. Thank you, K…. for such a wonderful night. I don’t get those very often anymore. It was nice to let everything slide away for a bit and get lost in a world of beauty parlors, some good reality T.V. laughs, and a little blood, too;) And Mizpah, Mandy Bee. Thank you. I love you my crazy stalker bestie. Thank you for not being afraid of the dark with me. No matter how scary it gets. And for breaking down my door when I won’t pick up the phone, the lights are off, the doors are barricaded shut but you somehow manage to break them down anyway. I know you didn’t know him, but how I wish you would have. Thank you for loving him like you did.
I don’t know what happened today except for we all slept in and that seemed to throw everything off. I woke up, did the big breakfast thing with your daddy and brothers, threw up, showered, and ran out to get your daddy’s car washed just to get out of the fucking house full of loud T.V. and noise. I ran to Smart and Final to stock up your brothers drinks for their school lunches. I had a panic attack in the parking lot and had the urge to do something really self-destructive. Anything. I seriously contemplated driving to the nearest bar to get shit faced drunk. And I don’t even drink, Ronan. But I wanted something, anything, to make this pain go away even if just for a short amount of time. I wanted a break or to feel something differently, than this. Anything. I sat, cried, almost did…..but did not. Self destruct or self control? Today, self-control won. I am scared for the day that it will not. I came home exhausted from the hour I spent crying, fell into bed and drifted in and out of sleep for the next 4 hours. I hid in our bed, until the bright sun disappeared and I had enough of dreaming the dreams where all I can seem to do, is cry and scream in them. I feel like I live in between two worlds. One of real reality and one of fake reality. They both suck and I can’t win either way. The dreams I dream of always involve watching myself cry due to this nightmare. Happiness does not exist, anywhere without you, Ronan. At least not for me…. not even in my dreams.
Alright baby boy. This is enough for tonight. I wish I had something happier to say… an ounce of hope to give you…. a glimmer of the happiness that I hope to one day be able to feel again. But this is me, today. This is the best I can do. I guess just be proud that I am here and I didn’t drive off the cliff that I made up in my head today. I love you so much. I miss you every second of every day. I hope you are safe.
Dear Lovely Little Blog Readers,
Thank you. For sticking with me. For hugging your kids tighter. For appreciating everything in your life, so much more than you did before you knew Ronan and our story. Thank you for helping me keep him alive by thinking about him, loving him, and letting him make you all better people. It keeps me going even during my darkest hours. I wish you all only health and happiness in 2012. Because we all know if health exists, then happiness does too. I love you. Ronan loves you. Please be safe! No drinking and driving!