Ronan. It’s days like today where I’ve had so much going on and I feel like I’ve been doing so “well,” whatever that means, that I have to stop myself 10 times in a day, to close my eyes, and think about this reality of mine. It is days like today that I have to take the time, to sit back and think about your death because all of a sudden, this time that stood still for so long, seems to be flying right by me. I’ve been hearing a lot of, “Look how much you have done, already. You should be so proud of yourself.” I pause and think about this. Am I doing too much? Am I not crying enough? Am I being true to this pain or distracting so I don’t feel it? I worry about this. But I cannot stop the things that have been coming my way. I cannot stop them and what am I supposed to do, just sit back and ignore them? I can’t. That would be like throwing all the gifts you are bringing my way, in the trash. I don’t have a choice. I have to keep up with all that is going on if I am going to accomplish all the things you want me to do.
So, on days like today, where I am not bombarded with 50 things to do, I close my eyes a lot. I take a lot of deep breaths. I let myself go back to the saddest time in my life, which is when you took your last breath. I let myself feel the sadness that engulfs me and I let it be o.k. to feel this. I embrace it. I nurture it. I don’t hide from it. I have a lot of quiet time during days like today. I let myself feel alone and lost while driving in the car, looking for you in the rear view mirror. I go into the grocery store, alone. I still have to mentally talk myself through the shopping experience. I see the world so differently now. I go to the ghetto Fry’s instead of the fancy one, we used to go to. It’s much safer at the ghetto Fry’s. The people there, don’t blind me with their smiles. In fact, the people in there, are so sad looking, that it makes me sad for them. I cry in the grocery store, but not because of my own pain. I cry because I see the pain of the others around me. The man with the mental illness who is having a conversation with the pancake mix, the homeless lady with a shoe missing, the little kids that are covered in dirt and filth and their mom yells at them to put back the cereal because it is too expensive. Has the world always been so sad? And I am only now just realizing it due to the sadness I feel from not having you? You made me so happy, Ronan, that sadness didn’t exist our world. You made second of my life so happy, no matter where we were or what we were doing. We could have been in the middle of the war in Iraq, and I would have still been happy as long as we were together. Now, I’m in the middle of the war in Iraq but the war lives inside of my head and I am without you. How does one survive that? Because I hear from the outside world all the time that I am so strong. This puzzles me. I don’t think I’m strong. I think I don’t have a choice. I think I am a fighter and I love you so much, that I will do whatever it takes to change this. Is that strength? I don’t know. To me, it’s just our love.
For not having a busy day, I had a freaking busy day. I was pretty much gone the entire day and your brothers had a baseball game tonight. I almost had a panic attack, having to go back to the baseball field, without you. I never wanted to be the mom who actually got to sit and watch the entire game. I always wanted to be the mom who could never sit back and enjoy the game, because I had you to chase around. Tonight, I got to sit and watch your beautiful brothers. Tonight, I got to sit as the tears poured down my cheeks because one of the boys on the team, reminds me so much of an older version of you. He is a natural athlete who is ahead of all the other kids his age, due to having older brothers. This would have been you. Your daddy knows this too. He came over many times and put his hand on my shoulder. “Are you o.k?” he asked. I smiled my half-smile and just nodded my head as the tears poured down my cheeks. They were well hidden underneath my sunglasses and fedora hat. I did the best I could do, but sitting at that game tonight was beyond painful. I don’t think it will ever be something I enjoy again. I feel like a fish out of water. I pictured you, hanging on the fence, yelling for your brothers and being so pissed that you were too little to play, so you would have run out to the field and thrown some dirt or a ball in protest. I could hear your little voice yelling out, “Gooooo Quinny! Goooooo LiLi!” You would have been the team mascot. I am so sorry. I swear, this is all my fucking fault. I was your mom. It was my job, to keep you safe. I failed. I failed and you died and now what? Now, I am here, going to freaking little league games like everything is normal when it is so wrong. Life just goes on and baseball games, snow cones, and laughter exist. They exist to everyone in the world except the mom who no longer gets to bring her almost 5 year old, to his brothers baseball game. She gets to bring his blanket instead and hold it on her lap because he is dead. Who is in charge of this so called life again? I think I’ve said this before, but I want a mother fucking refund.
This is all I can write tonight, little one. I’m so tired. I’ve been falling asleep so easily lately due to all the going I’ve been doing, during the day. I love you. I miss you. I hope you are safe. G’nite baby doll. Sweet dreams.