Did I die? Nope, it was just the flu.

Ro baby. It was bound to happen sooner or later. The way I run myself ragged, I’m surprised it took this long. It started Wednesday night. I was getting ready for our little board meeting and I should have suspected something….. but I just chopped it up to being tired. I went to our meeting, did my best to formulate my thoughts with this heavy fog that was hanging over my head (tiredness or so I thought), came home 4 hours later (meeting very productive) crawled into bed and by that time, every inch of my body was aching. I threw off my clothes, washed my face, and curled up in your bed. I don’t think I moved for the next 24 hours. I slept for about 16 hours straight. When I did finally wake up, I felt like I had been hit by a truck; several times. I spent the next couple of days, wishing for death just due to how physically awful I felt and for the first time, it was due to something else then the loss of you. It was official. I had the flu. And there was nothing I could do about it. I gave into it. I let my body break down like it has been wanting to do. After about the second day of being extremely sick, I started to come about and realized my surroundings again. Grief, reality, Inferno Fuckwad Bob, were all there waiting for me. I woke up to a quiet house. Alone. A heavy wave of sadness washed over me. I’m alone. I’m sad. Why is the house so quiet? Where’s Ronan? Ronan’s gone. Ronan’s dead. You are alone. Nobody wants to take care of you because you’ve been so mean. Because you’ve pushed everyone away. I started to cry. My phone rang. Of course it did. You always make sure of this. I pick up and say hello to our favorite lovie and I give him my best I’m not crying or sick voice I can. It doesn’t work.

Mr. Sparkly Eyes: “Why do you sound like that? What’s wrong? Why are you not at your F U Cancer Starbucks office today?”

me: “I’m sick. I think I’m dying. I’m sick. I’m alone and I have nobody to take care of me.”

Mr. Sparkly Eyes: “Well, how are you going to Fuck Cancer if you are sick?” the chuckling begins. “I’ll bet you are the WORST sick patient ever. You being sick, unable to do things, just does not go hand in hand.” the chucking continues.

me: UGH. I’m too sick to laugh. But I laugh anyway. “Why are you laughing. It’s not funny. I’m really sick and alone and nobody wants to take care of me.”

Mr. Sparkly Eyes: “You are not alone. You have plenty of people who would love to take care of you. I know how stubborn you are and I know how you won’t let ANYONE take care of you.”

me: “I hate that you know me so well. Not really. I love that. Thank you.”

Mr. Sparkly Eyes: “I miss him. I’ll check in with you later. Please rest. This does not suit you at all.”

me: “Fine. Agreed. How are you always right? It’s starting to annoy me. I love you, Sparkly.”

I hung up and listened to your Sparkly and went back to sleep for the next 8 hours. I let the tears, sweat, and vomit take over my world for 3 days straight. I almost made your daddy take me to the ER as I thought I was massively dehydrated. The thought of the ER and the reality that would come with it, kept me at home, chugging Gatorade. Finally, late last night, I started to feel better. I poked my head up out of bed to get a peek at your daddy who was stripping sheets, washing blankets, and tending to your brothers. Thank RO for that daddy of yours. I tried to get to sleep at a decent hour last night but my achy body and the thoughts of you, were consuming me. I found myself, on my phone, looking at pictures of you. Starting from before you diagnoses to the months after. Oh, there’s perfect infant Ronan. Then perfect baby Ronan. Then perfect toddler Ronan. Then perfect little boy Ronan. Then perfect your baby has cancer Ronan. Then perfect your baby has cancer Ronan, but we will fix him. Then perfect your baby has cancer, Ronan but we can’t fix him……. Then the pictures just stop because no more can be taken. So I shoved the phone away and rocked myself as I sob and cry and cry. What do you mean, no more pictures of Baby Ro? He was mine, how can that be? What do you mean, I can’t talk to him anymore? He was my best friend, the love of my life….. this can’t be real. It cannot be real because it is too awful. Things like this don’t happen in real life, right? Things like this don’t even happen in the fucking movies so how can they possibly happen, in real life? Fuck this FUCK THIS FUCK THIS!!!!!!!!!!!! I just want my best friend back. Please!!!!!!! Somebody make this not real because it is too horrific. I’m up out of my sickness coma. I’m better. I’m pacing the house now. I’m looking for you. The screaming won’t stop now. I grab my Ambien that I now only take due to emergencies. It was an emergency last night. I was like a wild animal out of control. I needed the blackness of the night that only exists due to this little frienemy of mine. Swallow pill. Sheets drenched. Pillow case soaked. Clutch phone to look at your face. Your sweet little face. Blackness engulfs my forever painfully aching body of grief. Lights out for the next 7 hours.

I wake up to the fucking sunlight obnoxiously screaming in my face. Dude. Can’t a vampire/zombie catch a break around here? Would it be too much to ask for the happiness of the world to just go on vacation for a day? Not today. Today you will be slapped in the face with the reminder that everything is AWESOME in AZ because it is a perfectly sunny happy fucking day. Even when you have a dead kid, life just goes on. Or so the outside world seems to think. Even the weather agrees.

That’s all for now little man. I miss you so much. SO much that I somedays think this still cannot possibly be real. But then I see your Urn staring back at me and I am quickly reminded that it is and there is nothing I can do about it, to bring you back. For that, I’m sorry. I am so very sorry. I love you. I miss you. I hope you are safe. Please keep watching over Ben with the Bald Head for me. Thanks for making it rain on him the other night while he was out for a walk with his mama. I love you, Ro. Sweet dreams.

xoxo