The Eye of the Storm


 

 

 

Ronan. I am in the eye of the storm. The month of hell. You are working really, really hard, to make sure I survive this. You have been working so hard, that I can hardly keep up with all of the amazing things that have been going on. This week has been a blur. Between finishing my 30 day hiking challenge, working on some things for your foundation, preparing for our trip, a couple of amazing dinners about some ideas that I would like to see happen, getting ready for your birthday at PCH… I don’t even know what day it is. That is probably a good thing for today. I would not have made it through the week if I had been sitting around, thinking about where we were, last year at this time. I know where we were. I had 5 days left with you. Just 5 days. And tomorrow it will be four. I still don’t know how this can be, but it is. This is just the way it is and there is nothing I can do, to change it.

I had one of the best nights I’ve had in a really, really, long time the other night. You just happened to make sure your Fairy RoMo, got dropped in my lap at the beginning of the month of hell. How in the world did you pull that one off? I don’t know, but the stars aligned and the next thing I knew, your Fairy RoMo just landed in my lap. It just happened to be on the night of Rita’s birthday, too. The two of us met up with your Fairy RoMo at some Hotel that seemed to not have a name because it was as if we were somewhere completely else, not 10 minutes away from our house. We sat outside, under the stars and got lost in the night. We talked, laughed, cried, and worked on our evil little plans to take over the world, while curing childhood cancer and traveling to Iceland. I watched them, watch me. I watched the way they looked so so sad, yet both of their eyes sparkled in the night whenever we talked about you. I listened to the most beautiful story about a purple balloon that was let go in Central Park for you. I started to cry during this story. Not only out of sadness but also out of love. The sadness and love of the story that was told was one of the most beautiful things I have heard since losing you. I watched my friends as they looked at me and said, “You have to stay here. You promised.” I told them I knew. I remind myself of the promise I made 50 times a day to keep me going. After a very late night of lots of Roplans I came home exhausted but I felt peaceful. Being in the presence of those two very special souls heals little pieces of my heart. They leave me feeling inspired and my soul awakened. I know they are both gifts from you. It was because of them, that I made it through that May day.

Now it is a new May Day. May 6th. 3 more days. 3 more days is all I had left of you, at this time, last year. I had to get out of Phoenix. We left today. Left to go far, far away but it will never be far enough. This is not a vacation. This is a get me the fuck out of Phoenix for the day that he died/his birthday. Vacations will never exist in my world again. We made it to our destination and I hate the reason that we are here. But all I can continue to do is to continue to fight upstream in this never-ending battle of a current that wants me to drown. It is a constant never ending battle and on days like today, I get really tired. Days like today that consist of long airplane rides with a little 5-year-old stranger that sits right across from you in the aisle of the airplane. I wanted to say to his mom, “Hey! I have a 5-year-old too! He is right next to me. Maybe our two little boys could play together on this very long, very boring, flight to hell. Wait? You are not going to hell? I am. Because my 5-year-old is dead. So I don’t get to have him here anymore. But so nice meeting you! Have a great vacation!”

I didn’t get to say any of those things. I sat on the airplane with Quinn instead and did not even cry. I felt numb. Yeah. I scooped out some of your ashes this morning before we left. And guess what. I didn’t even cry doing this. How is that possible? Because I am that strong? No. It has nothing to do with strength. It has everything to do with this being so unreal to me, that it is not real. I often leave my body when I have to do things like this. I leave my own body a lot and I swear I float above, watching the girl below scoop out her child’s ashes of his urn while not crying. Sometimes it’s the only way to get through this. I don’t know how I’m going to survive these next days coming up but what choice do I have? Your brothers are happy. Your brothers are excited. I am trying my hardest to act happy and excited too, Ronan. But everything is screaming that this is all so wrong. Everything is screaming to get me as far away from this fucked up world as possible because there is nothing right about any of this.

This is all for tonight, baby doll. This is all I can do. I’m so sorry. I love you. I miss you. I hope you are safe.

xoxo

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9 thoughts on “The Eye of the Storm

  1. Ali Barnes

    It doesn’t matter if you make it through May just hanging by a thread; as long as you make it. And you will. There is too much RoLove surrounding you to let you fall. I think we’re all going to be amazed by what happens on Ronan’s Day of Love xo

  2. Mel

    Dear Maya

    I am so sorry. I have just spent the past week re-reading your blog all over again. You are such a beautiful mother and although it is probably of not much solace to you, you and Ronan inspire me to be a better mother, better friend and to make a difference. I am so thankful to you for that.

    You are doing amazing things for awareness and funding for neuroblastoma, I know you just want your baby back, but please know you are one inspirational mama.

    I hope your trip is as fun as it can be considering why you are there.

    With love

    Mel xxx

  3. Mama J

    Dear Maya,
    I am so very, very sorry. I am so sorry that fuckwad cancer stole your precious, beautiful, spicy, blue eyed baby. I am sorry that you now have to live in hell every single second of every single day. I am sorry that every time you wake up you will be living a mothers worst nightmare. I am sorry that there will never be anything any one can do or say to take your pain away. I am so very sorry that you got dealt this shitty fucking hand. I weep every time I read your beautiful words. If I had one wish it would be to bring your Ronan back!!! NO parent should ever have to endure the pain that fills your heart!! This is so FUCKED up that you even have to write these words when instead you should be holding your precious baby in your arms. Cancer is a fucking asshole bitch!!!! Cancer can go and get fucked!!!! I believe YOU and RONAN will make a BIG difference in the world of childhood cancer! Your beautiful Robaby will NEVER be forgotten…FUCK CANCER!!!

  4. Laura

    Maya. I read your words and I feel the way u feel. My son Alec went to heaven 1 1/2 yr ago. He was 8 and had a brain tumor. I know your pain. I’m so sad and lost without my sweet beautiful boy as you are. I want to tell u that I did feel a calmness inside as the 1 year happened–I know Alec was working his magic extra hard to get us through those days especially and every day (my husband said he felt it too)–as Ronan does for u.I hope u feel the calmness. I guess you are in my area–Im 30 min from Boston. Ive never left a comment before but I wanted to give u hope for the next days ahead. I also wanted to tell u that everything u write is everything I feel. Yet I wish I could still feel grateful and loving the way U do, I’m angry, bitter and my motto now is “who cares”. Though I know I’m suppose to make children’s lives better and my mind races with tons of ideas to make a difference. I just don’t have the will to even want to live let alone do great things. I envy that U are doing great things in spite of how u feel and hope one day I can do the same. I hate that this is our life, it is not suppose to be this way—our sweet boys should be in our arms always. Keeping u in my thoughts–Laura

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