Ronan. Did I say that I was in solitude last post? I think I remember something like that. Grrrr…not happening. Turns out, if I really want to go into deep hiding, I’m going to have to abort cancer fighting mission. And that’s not happening. I think I wrote to you last on Monday. Your 11 months fucking shitty asshole day. The week has flown by and I’m not even sure what I’ve done. I’ve hiked every single day, since I started my Inferno Hiking Challenge. It’s kind of sort of, AWESOME. I guess that’s where I’ve done all of my quiet time/solitude. Turns out, I really may need to go to India to a Buddhist Meditation retreat to get some serious solitude time. I don’t have time for that though, so the mountain will have to do. I’ve been thinking about your birthday, a lot. More so then your death day. I have a few ideas about what we will do. I think I remember thinking on Tuesday, as I was flying down the mountain, that Tuesday was an o.k. day. It was the first day in a long time that my head didn’t feel foggy or weighed down. It was the first day in a long time that I thought to myself, alright… this is easy. You can totally do all of this. This meaning the 1 billion ideas I have roaming around my head in regards to you/childhood cancer/bigger picture/cancer is an asshole plan. The hiking and being outside with nature seems to really work for me. That and Dr. JoRo go hand in hand with saving my life. I’ve been doing alright without her here. The best that I can do. I repeat a lot of her words in my head and try to make myself be mindful of every single thing that I am feeling. She’s been checking in on me a lot and I actually went down to the MISS office on Tuesday where I sat in her office to get some shit done. Thanks, Yasaman and Kathy for letting me crash the place for a bit. I was able to be productive for a few hours and it felt nice to get some things checked off of my never-ending list.
I’ve been spending a lot of time with your brothers. They had a friend over this week to play. It was nice for all of us. I miss doing things like that with them. I miss the days when play dates ruled our world and cancer did not exist. I took them swimming and I allowed myself to get lost in a book for a bit. I never read anymore. I’m starting to do it a little more of it. I have to try for my mental well-being… I’ve been a reader since before I could freaking read. It’s always been a part of me. For as hard as it is for me now because my concentration is shot, I really want it back in my life. Your daddy asked me a couple of weeks ago if I ever thought I would start to read again. He said to me, “Remember when you used to read a book, in a day?” Yeah, I remember. I remember a lot of the things I used to love to do that I just don’t do anymore. The self-torture is never-ending around here. I don’t like to do things that make me feel good. It does not feel good to me to feel good anymore. It just comes with a ton of guilt/demons/you should not feel happy about anything because you are gone. Even the one thing that makes me feel o.k. like exercising, comes with a heavy price tag. Don’t think I’m not beating myself up on that mountain to make myself physically feel the pain because I am. I am constantly telling myself if it doesn’t hurt or I’m not puking, I’m not trying hard enough. That nothing is good enough. I couldn’t save you, so why the fuck should I save myself? I know why. UGH. For as much as I don’t want to, I do know why. I see the shreds of happiness you leave around. I feel like I am holding on to them as tightly as I can. I’m trying my hardest not to let go, Ro. I am trying.
I had a board meeting last night. It lasted almost 5 hours. It was beautiful. It was painful. They always are. Nothing beautiful in this world, comes without pain. It’s just they way life is. But once again, sitting in that room with the loveliest little souls alive, I felt blessed. And thankful. They all love you so deeply and so much, that it sometimes leaves me speechless. We talked about a lot of foundation things. We talked about your birthday and death day. At one point, I had no choice but to put my head down on the table and sob. I was trying my best to be strong, but when it comes to talking about your one year shit, there is no being strong. There is no need to be. Especially in a room full of them. I cried. I told them all how nothing seems good enough. I told them all how I have been racking my brain, just waiting for something to come to me, to honor you. But it’s not happening. This is what I have for May, Ronan. The day you died. Your birthday. Mother’s Day. The day we had your funeral. Your Daddy’s Birthday. I mean, really world. Could you throw one more thing in there for me to deal with. May is awful. May is horrific. I wish I could bypass that month all together. I know I have to get a plain in place, otherwise I’m going to be fucked. If I don’t have a plan, May will spiral out of control. Nobody can save me from May. It’s coming and there is nothing I can do about it except try to take the days that I know are going to be the hardest, and try to deal with them, head on. What choice do I have? I can’t bury myself or slit my wrists. I just won’t. I promised two very important people this. I’m not breaking my promise to either one of them. I love them too much.
Babydoll. This is all I can do tonight. It’s late. I’m tired. I have a busy day tomorrow. I have a busy day, but I’ll still get my ass up on that mountain, to have some time with you. I love you. I miss you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams.